


Sick Thrills

by SpaMightWrite



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: BDSM, Bodily Fluids, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, Kinky, M/M, Master/Pet, Multi, Omorashi, Pet Play, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M, Urination, Watersports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2396345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaMightWrite/pseuds/SpaMightWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean bothers his teammates by being gross, and gets off on it. What a weirdo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at Thirsty Thursday Wrassle Edition on tumblr. It's become an ongoing work, as oneshots tend to do. If you like it, you can leave prompts or suggestions if you want.

Dean was startled awake by a pothole in the road that made a heavy “thunk” noise and sent a jolt through his entire being. The light reflecting off the desert floor stung his sad, sleepy eyes for a moment until he could blink away the pain. He found himself breathing quickly from the shock, which melted into a loud yawn. He wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, the scruff on his cheek scratching against his hand.

After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he heaved a sigh and tried to regain his bearings. He was in the passenger's seat of a sedan, which smelled of lemon cleanser and sweat, and was in the process of speeding down a desert highway. The horizon shivered in the heat, almost as if the air conditioning from the car's vents were too much for it.

Dean let his head fall against the seat's headrest and looked to his left. The big, tattooed man he had come to call his brother was at the helm, clad in a t-shirt and jeans.

“Can't even shut up while you're sleeping,” smirked Roman from the driver's seat. “You know how loud you snore, right?”

“Not half as loud as your mom,” Dean muttered, reaching under his tank top to scratch his lower stomach. Before he could receive the impending knuckle to his shoulder, he added, “Who is a respectable member of society, and by all accounts is a lovely woman.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought you said.” Roman leaned back in his seat, one hand on the steering wheel, and the other arm draped across the armrest. “Sorry, though. I didn't see that hole in the road.”

Dean shrugged and made a noncommittal noise. They were closer to the next town on the tour than usual – there wasn't much to stop him from getting plenty of sleep. Other than Patrick Swayze movie marathons that tended to play on local channels they had at the hotels.

Out of curiosity he glanced toward the back seats of the sedan. Seth, in spite of the pothole and the resulting banter, was still fast asleep with his head laid against the luggage piled onto the seat next to him.

Dean turned back, shaking his head. “Fucker could sleep through the return of CM Punk.” He stretched each of his limbs as far as they could reach in the cramped front seat. As his stomach muscles contracted and his back arched, he felt a very familiar pressure in his lower stomach, which was threatening to release itself at that moment.

He sucked in a hissed breath and quickly brought his arms and legs back in closer to his core. Jesus, he thought, one big hand brushing against the top of his pelvis. Where the hell did that come from?

A cup of coffee with breakfast.

An energy drink from the convenience store.

… Does the beer from last night count? Because there were several.

Yeah, that'd do it. He pulled at the waist of his jeans, which had become somewhat tight with the swelling of his bladder. “Hey big cat, can we pull over for a sec?”

Roman shot a glance towards his partner, one eyebrow raised. “Feeling queasy?”

“Nah, I need to take a leak. Anywhere's fine, I don't care.” He sat up straight in preparation to stand up, which added even more urgency to the problem at hand.

“Can you wait an hour?” he sighed, brushing back a loose strand of his illustrious mane. “We're actually making good time for once.”

He didn't even give it any thought. “Not especially.” In the corner of his eye he caught Roman start to roll his grey-blue eyes. Dean's lips pouted into a sneer and he continued, “I could always use the window. How good do you think my aim is?” He rolled the window all the way down, sending a loud breeze throughout the car.

Roman flipped the turn signal towards the side of the road and shook his head. “You're an animal, dude.” 

That mischievous grin spread across his face. He had admitted to himself – and others – long ago that he got a sick little thrill by making people kind of uncomfortable. Especially when it came to private matters. He'd never go as far as to say it gave him a sexual kick, but... well, he wouldn't say it. Roman wasn't terribly easy to embarrass, as he was fairly laid back in most things. Seth, however...

Dean's smirk only widened. Well, that did it.

The car pulled to a stop on the side of the highway, kicking up a small cloud of dust. “Just hurry it up, all right?” Roman insisted.

“Absolutely!” The curly-headed imp clicked his seat belt off and threw the door open. With a bit of flourish and a lot of force, he slammed the door shut behind him. He tried to be subtle about shooting a quick glance into the back seat – far more subtle than he was about closing the door. Once the bearded sleeping beauty had stirred and started to sit up, Dean's heartbeat gave a small skip of excitement. 

Everything was falling into place.

Dean, his glee somewhat unmanageable, took just a single step and turned away from the vehicle in the falsest modesty. By the time he unzipped his jeans, he was aching for release. Roman did tell him to hurry up, but he decided to do so for more than just that reason. His bladder bulging, the tip of his flaccid cock tingling, Seth just becoming aware of his surroundings, Dean pulled his member out of his boxers and held it lazily in place between his thumb and forefinger.

Through the open window he heard Seth behind him clear his throat and ask, “We there already?”

The last word had barely left Seth's mouth before Dean began relieving himself onto the dry ground below. There was no trickle of hesitation, just a strong and rather loud stream splattering into the dust. Dean looked down through one open eye and a grin, his relief surging through and then out of him. 

During the pause after Seth's question, when the only thing audible was liquid splashing against dirt, Dean wanted to make certain his teammate knew exactly what was happening. He took in a deep breath and let it out in the form of an exaggerated moan of relief.

“Jesus Christ, man!” shouted a clearly exasperated Seth from the backseat. “You couldn't do that a little farther away?”

And there it was. He couldn't un-hear it or un-see it.

Dean had to keep himself from snickering. As his bladder continued to empty at full force he called back, “Whaaat? You said it yourself. What was it? 'When you gotta go, you gotta go'?”

He didn't even need to look back to know Seth's ears were burning. Truly, Seth's greatest regret was not having to urinate underneath the ring during a show; it was admitting to it in that interview. At least he'd had the decency to use an empty bottle. And Dean had the decency to not make fun of him until the day after, out of earshot from anyone else.

“Fuck you!” Seth spat back.

Dean heard a thump behind him, guessing that it was Seth pounding a fist against the door in irritation.

Now he's just asking for it to get worse.

Dean took his hand away from his crotch, letting his cock spray free between his legs. He pretended to stretch both arms upwards and gave another loud sigh. His hands didn't return to his crotch, but rested on his hips. He had to push a bit to make sure he didn't splash his boots. Even if he did, though, it was worth it to sense Seth squirming behind him.

It was then that an SUV drove by, and several young women hanging out of the windows shrieked and hollered at the sight. They were gone as soon as they had arrived, but it was enough. Dean burst out laughing. A blush bloomed across his cheeks, not of embarrassment, but of his rather unusual arousal.

“Ugh,” Seth groaned. “Everybody can see you!”

His stream was weakening, not for lack of trying. He pushed out the final, strong jets into the huge puddle on the ground and tucked himself back into his jeans. The last few drops soaked into his boxers, and that little electrical jolt of pleasure sparked through him as he felt the wetness against him.

He zipped himself up and turned back with an unrestrained smile and a tongue devilishly between his teeth. Dean guessed that this would be the best part, and it was. Seth wasn't looking directly at him – perhaps he couldn't. But his whole face had gone red and he was pouting with embarrassment. His eyes had narrowed into a glare. When he noticed Dean was giggling at him, he lay a hand over his eyes and shook his head.

Oh yes.

Dean's pants had gotten significantly looser now that he was empty, but they were quickly becoming tighter again. With a spring in his step – and in his pants – he opened the passenger's side door and slid back into his seat.

After buckling up, he set one foot on the dashboard and bent the opposite leg upward, setting that foot onto the seat and hugging that knee. He hoped that would hide his bulge well enough from Roman. Sure, he loved to bug his teammates, but he'd rather not scar them for life. He'd have to contain himself for an hour before they made it to the motel. Even if they had to share a room, there was always the shower.

Roman was staring forward, trying not to encourage Dean's ridiculous behavior, as he returned the car to the road. Seth was mumbling something about Dean being disgusting while trying to adjust himself back into a comfortable sleeping position.

There was some tension, and a lot of discomfort, in the air between the three men as they traveled along the highway to their destination.

Just the way Dean liked it.


	2. Chapter 2

With duffle bags and suitcases piled up in the corner, shoes abandoned at random, the “do not disturb” sign on the door handle, the three men collapsed in their own personal heaps. Roman on one of the two beds, Seth in the armchair, and Dean facedown on the carpet.

“I want you to take a minute,” Seth sighed, his hand on his forehead, “and try to guess when they last cleaned that carpet in any significant way.”

Dean lifted his head and stuck out his tongue, edging threateningly close to the carpet.

Seth gagged a bit and looked away. “You're so fucking weird.”

“Tell me somethin' I don't know.” Dean pushed himself off the floor with his fingertips and sprang up. “I call first shower. That floor is disgusting.”

Roman chuckled, Seth scoffed, and Dean gave them both the smirk he was famous for as he went into the bathroom. The lock clicked shut. He didn't expect anyone to come in, but there was something important he had to take care of, and that required guaranteed privacy. His shirt was tossed into a corner, and Dean caught his reflection in the mirror.

Curly blonde hair sticking out in all directions, wide shoulders slumped over with road exhaustion, and the crotch of his jeans bulging upwards. His hand, previously laying flat against his side, drifted between his legs. It gave some gentle strokes to his inner thigh, making him shiver. His big fingers rubbed against his balls, and they began to tighten and pulse. He slid his palm over the erection he'd been hiding for more than an hour. He pressed it against himself, letting out a quiet sigh.

Before he went any further, he stepped over to the shower and started the flow of water. The zipper and button of his jeans were pulled open, his boxers stretched and strained around his further hardening cock. They too were soon abandoned on the tile floor, joining his pants, shirt, and socks. His cock now bouncing free, Dean tested the water and stepped behind the shower curtain.

His hand firmly squeezed around himself, he let out another long sigh and started stroking slowly. His other hand began to wander, running his fingers along his muscled stomach and chest. Goosebumps sprang up along his arms, not just from the temperature change, but from the tension mounting all along his shaft.

His mind, too, began to wander.

It wasn't a night where he discovered very much about himself, but he did discover something about Seth. They'd spent a lot of time on the road, in hotels, in the ring together. But it never came up until that night that Seth had somewhat of a problem.

Namely, he was easily embarrassed by certain subjects, and by his apparent inability to hold his liquids for very long.

He and Dean had been shoved into a rather cramped broom closet during a television taping, for the purpose of staying hidden until the very end of Roman's singles match, and to be in a very strategic position to run in out of nowhere to save the day.

But as the website always said, the card was subject to change.

Not significantly – they'd been informed that the match they were meant to interfere with was pushed forward by about a half an hour. Meaning they'd been waiting in the closet for around forty-five minutes, but they had to be ready at any moment just in case it changed again. It was fairly expected, but there was a lot of planning and often too many variables to take care of important needs.

Seth was very aware of this. Too aware. And Dean was becoming aware, as well.

Usually it was Dean who couldn't stay still. He was constantly drumming his fingers against various surfaces, dancing around, fidgeting in general. But Seth was putting his twitchiness to shame. The split-haired high-flier was clenching and unclenching both fists, bouncing on his toes, shifting his weight nonstop.

Dean could easily tell what was going on. But it was far too easy to mess with him instead of staying quiet with this knowledge.

“You're fired up tonight,” he whispered into Seth's ear.

Seth jumped a bit in surprise, turned to glare at Dean, and then grimaced and bent forward, his hands pressed against his thighs. “Jesus, don't scare me like that!” he snarled. “I'm not... I'm just...” The look in his eyes spoke of anxiety and indecision. Pouting, he looked away from Dean and muttered, “I'm fine, don't worry about it.”

“Didn't ask if you were okay.”

A moment of relative silence, apart from the muffled noise from the stadium and Seth's feet shuffling against the concrete floor.

“And I wasn't worried,” Dean grinned. “Are you?”

“Shut up, man,” his partner complained, squeezing his thighs together. “Just... didn't get a chance to... yeah.”

Yup. Dean knew it. The expression on his face of concerted effort, the desperation in his eyes and movements, the avoidance of eye contact. His teammate was usually more self-confident than anyone, assured that he was indeed the coolest and most talented man in any given room. But now he was squirming with discomfort, trapped, and most of all, vulnerable.

It was making Dean hard.

“Gotta piss?”

Seth's cheeks bloomed red and he turned even more away from Dean. “I said shut up.”

“Come oooon, dude,” Dean laughed, patting Seth on the shoulder. “We're best friends, aren't we? We can talk about this in a mature fashion.”

“I can. I'm really not sure about you,” he pointed out with some well-learned derision. “I'm in enough trouble as it is, and I don't need you to mock me.”

Dean put his hands up, a not-very-convincing look of feigned innocence on his face. “Hey, you do what you gotta do. Not like I've never been in your place.”

Still eying Dean suspiciously, Seth picked up his near-empty water bottle from the shelf and downed the rest of it, setting the cap down. 

“Except you have no shame.” He turned around to face the corner of the closet. “You tell anybody and I'll kick your teeth in. You know I can, and I will.”

Dean heard the unzipping of pants, the shuffling of fabric and then measured, slow breathing.

“You'd better not be looking,” Seth warned.

Not until he'd told him not to.

“Of course not. Man needs his privacy. It's sacred.” Dean glanced over his shoulder to find Seth's shoulders hunched over, one hand at his crotch and the other holding the bottle to it. A few moments later, Dean saw his friend's shoulders relax, and the rather loud noise of liquid flowing filled his ears as urine filled the bottle. Really, Dean didn't even have to watch. The discomfort in the air, the sounds, those were enough for him. With Seth focused elsewhere, Dean adjusted himself to hide his growing arousal.

He returned his eyes to the action behind him, almost sure that he heard a quiet sigh of relief. The bottle was filling fast, but Seth seemed to be in ecstasy. His chin was raised, indicating that he was wrapped up in his release rather than focusing on getting the job done. But there was a problem with that, and Seth didn't even realize what it was until he felt hot liquid spilling over onto his hand.

“Shit!!” he exclaimed. “Dammit, dammit, dammit...” He set the bottle down in a panic and used both hands to try to contain himself. It was no use, though. The moment the bottle was on the floor, so was the stream spilling out of Seth. An even louder sound of splattering echoed throughout the high ceiling of the broom closet as a puddle started to form at Seth's feet.

Even Dean was beginning to blush. He couldn't look away. His teammate, entirely out of control of himself, swearing up a storm, helplessly relieving himself against the bare wall, leaving a dark stain. Dean shoved a knuckle between his teeth, his own cock hardening even more than before. He wasn't sure if he could hide this from anyone. Most of the time he wouldn't particularly care, but he'd rather not be the laughingstock of the entire locker room for something like this.

After what seemed like a full minute, the stream weakened, and then stopped entirely. Knowing Seth would be turning around in a moment, Dean shifted his gaze to the closet door in front of him.

“Shit,” he heard Seth repeat. “Janitor's gonna be fucking incensed.”

“Don't you mean he's gonna be... pissed?” Dean snickered.

“Shut up.”

The shower muffling his grunts of pleasure, Dean pulled himself with both speed and intensity. His fist moved all along his shaft, slapping against the base, causing his whole body to twitch. Legs weakening from focus, he turned to the side and leaned one forearm flat against the shower wall. He rested his forehead against his arm, legs wide apart, right hand very hard at work.

Seth's panic, his desperation, his vulnerability, his swearing. The noises he made. The noises of water hitting the floor, just like the shower he was standing under.

With a barely-restrained gasp and a pleased growl, Dean loosed himself against the wall of the shower.

The evidence washed away easily, leaving Dean flushed and satisfied and feeling even dirtier than he did before he got under the hot water. With one last sigh he picked up the soap and decided it would be a good idea to use the shower for its intended purpose before braving the outside world again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sir-neverse is creeping slowly into my own work. Here we go.

Dean left the bathroom with his clothes in a heap in his arms and a towel around his waist. Tiny cold droplets still ran from his hair and down his bare neck and spine. He tossed his clothes next to his suitcase, opened it up, and pulled out a clean pair of red spandex boxer briefs.

As he was pulling them on, Roman stirred from his position on one of the beds and sighed, “Next shower's mine.”

Seth got up from the chair at the same time and interrupted, “Wait, we still gotta figure out who gets their own bed. I'm gettin' up early tomorrow to find a gym, so I'd rather get it over with now.”

As was quite common on these long tours, the three men would often have to make do with just two beds in their hotel room. And rather than take turns and allow the deflation of their egos, they would settle this unending feud in the only way they could each deem fair: rock-paper-scissors.

They gathered in a circle and, in a childish parody of their team trademark, threw their fists together once, twice, three times, and one final time.  
Rock, rock, paper.

“Yeah!” laughed Seth, pumping his fist into the air. “All right, finally gonna get some real sleep for once.”

Dean and Roman shared exasperated looks. There was nothing they expected more from Seth than over-celebrating something entirely meaningless, but it didn't annoy them any less. Roman shook his head and headed into the bathroom as planned, while Dean tried to make himself comfortable on less than half of one of the beds.

Luckily, Dean had become quite accustomed to sleeping wherever he needed to. Even though the lights were still on at the time, he dozed off within minutes of laying his head on the pillow. In fact he only barely awoke when he felt a second body clamber onto the mattress next to him. His eyes fluttered open to find it pitch black, but he could tell who it was next to him. He'd spent enough time with both Roman and Seth to the point that he could identify them by sense. The scent of Roman's hair in his nose, the shared warmth sinking into his muscles, he drifted back into a much deeper sleep.

~

The room was absolutely unfamiliar to him, but there was nothing explicitly strange about it. The furniture was somewhat generic modern style, blocky and streamlined. He was standing in the doorway looking in, trying to get a better feel for his environment. Yet for the life of him he couldn't focus on anything in front of him. Further, he couldn't even remember how he'd arrived here or the reason he'd come. And for reasons he couldn't determine, he couldn't turn to look back.

It occurred to him for a single fleeting moment that he was probably in a dream, but there wasn't much to be done about that.

He shrugged to himself and walked in. At least the couch seemed comfortable enough. He fell back carelessly onto the cushions and put his feet up on the coffee table in front of it. 

There was definitely something off about... everything. And not just because he was entirely lost about his situation. An indescribable tension hung thick in the air, making him squirm in his seat. It was close to him, not just in proximity. Familiar. It was hanging on the tip of his tongue.

Trying to figure it out made him restless. 

Rather than wait any longer, he shouted into the void, “Hey!”

No answer. The presence remained.

Dean huffed out a frustrated breath and muttered, “Fuck it, I guess I'm alone.”

“What did I tell you about putting your feet on the table?” A deep, rich voice chastened him just inches from his ear.

Dean jumped out of his seat in shock to find Roman leaning over the back of the couch, a humorless smirk on his face. His hair was loose, a few strands hanging over his face and the rest cascading down his shoulders and back. They locked eyes for a moment, and Dean smiled back at him, relieved that this presence was someone he knew and trusted.

“Damn, man, you scared me,” he exhaled, collapsing back onto the couch. “This your place or something?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hm?”

Roman was acting odd. Usually he let Dean be for the most part, only discouraging any rude behavior when it could get him in trouble or cause undue conflict. Dean glanced back over his shoulder to find a look on his partner's face that he hadn't seen very often. Disappointed, angry, and... anticipatory? As if he was waiting for an explanation.

With a shrug of his shoulders Dean conceded, “All right, bro, sorry.”

A hand laid itself gently on the back of his head at that moment. He had barely started asking what he was doing before Roman's grip tightened, taking Dean's hair between his fingers.

“The fuck?”

He could only muster two words before a yelp of pain interrupted him. Roman pulled his head back by his hair, forcing him to make eye contact. No part of his face betrayed his motivations, save for a slight furrow of his brow. Roman leaned in even closer, to the point where Dean could feel the heat from his skin on his face.

The tattooed man above him spoke in measured tones, slowly and clearly. “If you can't remember, I'll remind you. You don't put your feet on my table.”

Fear jabbing pins into his heart, Dean growled, “Man, I said I was sorry! You gonna let go of me now?”

“That's not how it works.” Roman smiled again. Somehow it was even more frightening than his glare. Nonetheless, he loosened his grip on Dean's hair and instead began to softly stroke the back of his head.

The logical part of Dean's brain reasoned that none of this was normal. But the animal part of his brain, the one sending blood rushing throughout his body through his racing heart, commanded him to obey Roman.

Yet, he didn't have to be told twice.

“I'm sorry,” Dean repeated in a much smaller voice. He felt himself shrinking under the big man's aura. Roman was exuding a powerful presence, simply from his stance and his voice. He thought for a moment that he may not have much of a choice in the matter.

But...

He wanted to. The very pit of his stomach ached to obey. And to make it up to Roman. To be punished for his transgressions.

It would please Roman, and therefore it would please Dean.

Roman glided out from behind the couch, his fingers never leaving Dean's body. They trailed along the base of his head, his jawline, and came to a stop under his chin. Dean felt his head being tilted upwards from his chin, and he came to face Roman, who at this point was towering above him. The corners of his sneering lips were curled into a smile, but his eyes spoke far louder, proclaiming his displeasure from on high.

“You forgot something,” he explained. “You're sorry... what?”

This gave him pause. For the life of him he couldn't come up with anything he could have left out.

He hazarded a guess: “I'm sorry... for being a dick?”

Suddenly his cheek was throbbing from a stinging blow to his face. Before he could even react, Roman's big hand had dropped from Dean's chin and delivered a powerful slap. The man on the couch couldn't even remember if he'd cried out from pain, sitting dumbfounded with his own hand cradling his reddening skin.

As much as it hurt, he felt better. Calmer than before. Further, he felt himself hardening down below.

It was good. It was progress. He was on his way to paying for his mistakes.

“Try again,” Roman encouraged, still yet with a calm simper at his lips in spite of the outburst. “You say my name when you speak to me, don't you? What's my name?”

“I'm sorry, Ro--”

Dean gasped as Roman's fingernails raked against his exposed chest, leaving four red streaks across both pectorals. They stung hot against him as he let out a long, groaning breath.

His nails settled against Dean's shoulder, threatening to strike again at any moment. Roman leaned in once more, his forehead hovering just an inch above his partner's. “Not that one. I hope you didn't forget. You'll really be sorry if you did.”

Dean's heart pounded against his ribs. The words came to him as if from a long-forgotten memory, and spilled out from him from pure instinct.

“I'm sorry, sir.”

Roman lifted his hand from Dean's shoulder and let it rest on the top of his head. “Good, that was exactly what I needed to hear.”

He gave a sigh of relief and attempted to get up from the couch, confident that he had properly made amends. But Roman wasn't so certain. He held Dean in place with just one muscular arm. Dean looked up with eyes pleading, apologetic, nervous for what might follow.

“I didn't say we were done,” growled Roman.

In a flash, Dean was pinned against the back of the couch by his shoulders. Roman's cheek rubbed against Dean's as his lips came to rest against the other man's ear.

“You can say you're sorry all day, but I need you to show me just how sorry you are.”

Without any further warning, Roman dragged Dean to his feet and tossed him into the corner of the room. He collapsed in a nervous heap, his legs spread and sprawled out, his back to the wall, Dean could only watch from below as Roman leaned against the wall with one arm, blocking any escape.

“Dean.” Roman gazed down on him with a wordless expectation. He said no more, but slammed his hand against the wall as a prompt to hurry.

Dean cowered at the noise and shrunk even further into the corner. His mind raced for ideas. He was running out of time. He had to make sure Roman knew he could listen. He could be good. He could obey.

It occurred to him.

It sunk into his brain.

Dean lifted his head, locked his eyes with Roman's, and then looked back down at himself. All he had on was a pair of jeans. Chewing on his bottom lip, his cheeks burning, his eyes beginning to shine with hot, stinging tears, he took a deep breath.

A tiny dark spot appeared at crotch of his jeans. With a loud hissing, the dark spot grew and began to spread down his thighs. A puddle appeared on the carpet below him as the wetness soaked into the back of his jeans.

Like a scolded puppy, he emptied his bladder all over himself. Countless rivulets streamed down his crotch and thighs, creating warmth all around his lower regions. Even if he wanted to, he could no longer stop himself. The heavy current was flowing entirely out of his control. And it seemed like minutes before it began to slow to a trickle. A shiver climbed up his back while the last drops escaped him and disappeared into the puddle between his thighs. He stared up at Roman, eyes half-lidded in relief and shame.

Roman, for once, looked genuinely pleased with the proceedings, snickering at the embarrassed man below him. “I must have really scared you, huh?”

Dean nodded once, slowly.

“You did great.” He laid his hand on Dean's head once more and ruffled his curly, ginger hair between his fingers. “I'm so proud of you. I think you deserve a reward, Dean.”

Dean heard a zipper being undone, and in a moment, Roman's thick, rock-hard manhood was standing at attention at his eye level.

“Now, why don't you get up on your knees and suck me?”

Dean awoke in the hotel room with a start and an unrestrained gasp. Panting heavily, a cold sweat coating his entire body, he looked around to try and collect his senses. The faintest dregs of the night were giving way to the milky sunrise, shedding just enough light through the curtains for Dean to see. Roman was still dead asleep on his side next to him, and Seth was spread eagle on his back across his own mattress.

His mind eased back for just a solitary moment before he came to a realization.

His crotch was damp.

Though in a panic, he slowly reached his hand underneath the blanket so as to not alert his teammates to any of the goings-on. He felt a large wet spot in the front of his boxer briefs. Pulse thumping, he brushed his knuckles against the sheets in between his thighs.

Dry.

He brought his fingers back into view and found them lightly coated in a thick, white fluid.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he thought, his unsoiled hand holding up his sweating forehead. He couldn't decide which was more troubling – the dream or his reaction to it.

There would be time later to ponder these things. For now, he opted to slink out of bed and to his suitcase for a clean pair of underwear.


	4. Chapter 4

If Dean Ambrose had learned anything in life, it was how to function on little to no sleep.

The two days following his dream were consumed with yawns and far too much coffee. It wasn't as if he didn't want to sleep. There was nothing he would have loved more than to finally drift off into slumber after a long drive or a night of performing. But every time his eyes shut while he was in bed, he was bombarded with images.

Roman standing above him.

His own soaked jeans.

Roman... Roman's...

His eyes would snap open at that one. There was no way he could relax with that memory burned in the back of his skull. Two nights he spent awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to relieve his exhaustion.

And though he could easily maintain all of his other necessary human functions in this state, it wasn't without its problems. He found himself irritable, snapping at the slightest provocation, causing far more tension between him and his teammates than their egos ever did.

Seth and Roman had become accustomed to periods like this, but no one was happy with it. It was just one more obstacle to overcome.

But after the third night of no sleep, something had to change.

He'd begun nodding off at little provocation. If he wasn't directly engaged in doing something, his eyes would glaze over and his head would start falling forward. It hadn't caused any serious problem... yet.

But there was a live television event coming up.

And nothing mattered more to him than performing at his best every single night. If his in-ring ability suffered, he would never forgive himself.

And so, on the fourth morning, he picked up a dose of nighttime cold medicine at the hotel convenience shop.

“You feeling okay?” Roman asked as they walked out to the car, suitcases in hand. “I know Seth ain't ever gonna ask, but we can both tell you haven't been right.”

Dean pulled out the little green package from his back pocket and shrugged. “I think I've been coming down with something. Haven't even been able to sleep.”

Roman laughed, patting Dean on the shoulder. “Yeah, we noticed.”

A light blush appeared on Dean's cheeks, which he attempted to mask with a shrug. “I'll be fine. You and Seth are gonna have to drive today, though.”

“Hey, do what you gotta do to feel better, all right? We can't be a team without our wild card.” With that, he reached up and ruffled Dean's hair.

Dean immediately opened the package and dry-swallowed a full dose.

Dean settled himself in the back of the car as Seth began driving them away from the hotel and to the next destination. He was on one of his pep talks about how the Shield were going to steal the next show, everyone would be talking about them, the headlines they would make on the news coverage... No one was more sure about their success than Seth Rollins. 

With Seth's excited voice in his ears, Dean rested his head on his jacket and finally melted into slumber.

~

Dean awoke into consciousness not in the backseat of a car, but in a single-bed hotel room in the dead of night. 

And he wasn't alone.

Further, he wasn't the only one awake.

The person next to him was panting, shivering, making small noises that he couldn't yet identify.

Dean sat up and looked down at himself and found that, for some reason, he'd been sleeping in a tank top and belted jeans. However, there were more confusing matters to attend at that moment. He glanced to his left side, and there found Seth facing away from him on his side, the only thing visible being his half-brown, half-bleached hair and the very faintest hint of his neck. The rest of him was covered by the blanket. Oddly, the blanket was moving, rhythmically, up and down from Seth's shoulder.

As Dean's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see sweat beading on the back of Seth's neck. And the noises he was making were becoming louder, more dire, as if he was focused on something absolutely vital.

As though possessed by some deep, dark part of his psyche, Dean ripped the blanket off of the bed, off of the both of them, and tossed it to the floor. He found Seth in a t-shirt and sweatpants, his right arm pumping up and down for some unseen purpose. Seth jumped in surprise, rolling to face Dean, stuffing something back into the front of his sweatpants.

But there was no hiding it. His erection was quite clear under the fabric. Seth noticed Dean looking at him, the lower part of him, the part of him he'd been trying to conceal. His brown eyes wide, nervous, he clasped one hand over himself and looked up at Dean in shame.

Dean raised an eyebrow at the man below him. As he took in the scene, processed what was going on, he felt his stomach tighten with annoyance. Anger, even.

How dare he?

That mysterious side of himself, one he'd buried long ago for everyday life, the one grasping for control at that very moment, could not let this go. 

Seth, this little twerp, who couldn't keep his hands off himself even though he wasn't alone, had to be punished for this.

“Seth,” Dean growled.

“D-Dean,” Seth stammered. “I... fuck, man.”

The little slut wasn't even going to try to deny it. How arrogant.

“What were you doing just now?” Dean asked, despite knowing the answer, leaning toward his bedmate.

“I-I dunno, I--” 

“I think you do know. Because I know.”

Dean's arm shot forward automatically, grasping Seth's wrist and wrenching his arm away. Through the fabric of his sweatpants, Seth's rock-hard dick was so visible, it was almost as if he were naked.

Dean smirked, his big hand still clutched hard around Seth's wrist. “You can't hide anything from me, Seth. I knew exactly what you were doing...” With his other hand, he pulled Seth's sweatpants down, revealing the truth he'd known from the beginning. 

Seth yelped, struggling to get away. But Dean was so much stronger, had more leverage, and wanted Seth next to him way more than Seth wanted to escape.

“Well, well,” the bigger man said in a mocking tone. “What are we gonna do about this?”

To his shock, Seth smiled back, a mischievous look in his eye. “Well it isn't gonna suck itself.”

His patience with Seth snapped clean in half.

Dean pounced on top of Seth, pinning his wrists above his head with a single hand. He sat himself straight on top of Seth's exposed cock, eliciting a cry of both pain and pleasure from the man underneath him.

“You little brat,” his voice rumbled low in his throat. Leaning ever closer to Seth's grimacing face, Dean continued, “First you start touching yourself without my permission. You start without me. Try to hide your filthy shame. Then... you say something like that. You presume I'm here for your enjoyment. No. Not even close. The opposite, really.”

Fear started to fill up Seth's eyes as he squirmed underneath Dean's weight. He turned his face away as Dean closed the distance between them.

“Seth...” He whispered into Seth's ear. “You need to learn some manners, little boy.”

In direct opposition to his fright, his position, Seth let out a chuckle. “I don't know what you mean by 'little'. I'm bigger than you where it counts.”

With a snarl, Dean lifted himself up and rolled the Seth over onto his stomach, who went over kicking and shouting, his voice soon muffled by the pillow. “See, that's exactly what I mean. I'm gonna have to teach you this lesson myself.” He tightened his grip on Seth's wrists for a moment. “I'm going to let your wrists go. You'd better not try to escape, or you'll really regret it.”

He released Seth from his grasp. To his surprise and delight, Seth didn't budge, other than his back heaving with deep, terrified breaths.

Licking his lips, Dean unbuckled his belt and folded it in half. With no hesitation, no warning, he whipped it against Seth's ass, and a beautiful shriek of pain flew forth from his lips. His back arched, his feet pounded against the bed. It was too sweet, hearing him moan with pain and watching him squirm.

He had to do it again. And again.

Dean lay the belt against his thighs and buttocks twice, three times, four times... Eventually he lost count. Seth's cries became higher-pitched, louder with each blow. In between, he moaned and whimpered and held his head with both hands.

And soon, Dean was done. Not with Seth, but at least with the whipping. He turned Seth over once more to face him. Seth was wearing an expression that spoke of pain, embarrassment, shame for his actions. And Dean was hardening in response.

But he couldn't. Not yet.

Dean wrapped his belt around Seth's wrists and strapped them to the headboard.

“How does that feel, huh? Are you sorry?”

Seth winced, his hubris having caught up to him. “I'm sorry...” he groaned. “I'm sorry, please, I mean it.”

“Don't worry. I'll make sure you mean it.” Dean smiled in a way that made Seth's eyes go even wider than normal. He was panting, twisting his arms, biting his lower lip.

Dean stood up, Seth's waist right between his legs. He reached for the front of his jeans and undid the button and zipper. Seth closed his eyes. 

“Look at me, Seth,” he commanded, pulling out his half-erect manhood. “I'm going to make you just as dirty as your mind is.”

Seth hesitated, but slowly let his eyes open, locking them with Dean's.

The man towering above him drew in a breath, not looking away for a single moment, barely blinking. He exhaled. And his relief burst forth from him in a strong, golden stream, splattering against Seth's chest, soaking his shirt.

Seth's face went entirely red as the liquid started to hit him. He closed his eyes again, whining, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I... oh god...”

The bed underneath Seth was beginning to dampen, as well. Dean's urine cascaded onto Seth and rolled off of him in dozens of small rivers and pooled around him on the sheets. From the neck down, Seth was becoming soaked. It had even reached his sweatpants, drenching him down to his crotch and thighs.

The stream began to weaken, and Dean shook off the last drops, which landed in Seth's hair.

“Now, what did we learn, little boy?”

~

“GAAAH.”

Dean twisted himself out of his slumber, his arms flailing. It was nighttime, nearly pitch dark but for the occasional headlight shooting past them on the highway. Panting, doused with a cold sweat, his eyes bulging out of his head, Dean attempted to take hold of himself.

“Dean, what the fuck?” Seth asked from the driver's seat, staring at him through the rearview mirror.

He couldn't say anything. He wanted to explain away his panic, but no words could come out. Not to Seth.

Roman was snickering in the passenger's side seat. He turned back and grinned. “Was it the 'hordes of crazy women' dream again?”

“Yeah,” Dean's mouth said for him. “They... they had... duct tape.”

Seth and Roman burst out laughing and turned their attention back to the road.

“Fuck,” Dean thought. “And I thought I just had one problem.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah, this chapter is hella fuckin' short and lacks in the porn department, sorry. But the next part is a bit too long to attach to it.
> 
> Also. There's a guest star. Hey.

“Dean.”

…

“Hey. Dean?”

“Huh?”

His head snapped back to attention, finding both Roman and Seth staring at him over their plates with confusion and concern . It was barely 6:00 am as they sat in a corner booth in a diner off the side of the road in God-knows-where, Tennessee. Dean's brain was still fuzzed over from the cold medicine and the dream it had caused.

At least, he hoped it was the medicine that did it.

But considering it was the second of its kind, there was very little hope of that, indeed.

“You sure you're all right?” Roman had his hands clasped together around his coffee cup, as if he were holding it together for dear life.

Seth agreed, “Yeah man, you've got that thousand yard stare thing goin'.”

His down-turned eyes dropped to his own plate, containing a large stack of waffles that had barely been touched, in spite of the fact that they were generously topped with whipped cream. Dean never did anything half-assed, especially not cheat day. But he had barely been able to take a bite since they arrived in front of him.

“I dunno,” Dean lied. “I-I think that cold medicine fucked me up a little bit. Just kinda out of it.” He then made a show of digging into his breakfast and trying to stuff his face as much as he could stand.

“Can you even remember the last time you weren't out of it?” Seth chuckled while tossing back the last of his orange juice.

“Little brat,” the sleepy one mumbled through a mouthful of waffles.

Shit.

Not the term he'd meant to use.

But it seemed to go unnoticed by both of his partners, who went right back to chatting between themselves. Just as well. Being alone with his thoughts was pretty bad, but Roman and Seth trying to pry into them was that much worse.

“Holy shit,” repeated Dean's thoughts, over and over. “Oh my god. Sweet fucking hell.”

It was difficult enough just dealing with Roman being in his head like that. He'd never been particularly ashamed of finding him attractive, considering the myriad of fans who felt similarly. But those sort of thoughts never really occurred to him in any significant way. And with Seth added into the mix, there was no clean way to go about it. There was no way someone wasn't going to feel weird.

Well, that is, someone besides Dean. He already felt weird.

But only compounding the problem was how impossible it was to forget about all of this. It pervaded his thoughts nearly all the time, giving him a near-constant half-chub. Not even masturbation was helping him. In the days he was unable to sleep, he would spend some of his time jerking off in the bathroom to try and alleviate his lust and tire him out.

Yet the unreachable itch remained, torturing him from his very core.

And he wasn't about to fall back on old vices to deal with this problem. Not only would it be merely temporary, not only would it put him back on the path he vowed to never go down again, but it would only make it explode. If he were under the influence of some mind-altering substance, he would most likely begin ranting about what's been bothering him. It had always been like that.

So it would have to come out sometime.

And he'd rather do it of his own volition.

He had some research to do.

~

The proper use of a smart phone was often beyond Dean Ambrose. That is, googling “how to stop having kinky gay dreams about your friends” had no relevant results. So as per usual, he had to resort to the old-school tactics.

A bookstore.

While Roman and Seth went to bed early at the next hotel, Dean ventured forth into the twilit city with nothing more than some vague directions from the front desk clerk and a few $20 bills in his back pocket. It didn't take too much wandering before he arrived at a large independent bookseller nestled between a couple of department stores.

He wandered about inside, even though he found the “Romance and Relationships” section within minutes of entering. A few thoughts crossed his mind as he pretended to look at some Batman graphic novels.

“What kinda sicko puts Romance right next to the kid's comics?”

“'Romance and Relationships'. Christ, relationships? I'm not getting into a relationship, I just wanna be safe about my stupid horny bullshit.”

“Can't spell 'Romance' without 'Roman'.”

That last one made him chuckle to himself, and then blush self-consciously. It occurred to him that he would have to figure out who he was going to talk to first. Looking them both in the eye at the same time and trying to explain the situation would really be too much even for him.

“It's karma,” he thought, finally trudging into the next aisle of shelves. “This is what I get for getting off on bugging these guys. Dammit. You stupid asshole...”

Now that he was glancing at the different titles, there was nothing to indicate which of the books would tell him what he needed to know. Sure, each of them had reviews that praised them for being informative and comprehensive and exciting, but not a single one advertised itself for his very specific needs. He was rather close to just choosing one based on the snappiest title or the slickest cover artwork when he noticed someone approaching.

A dark-skinned young woman wearing a name lanyard and a friendly smile had stepped out from the other aisle. She was dressed in all black, even to her lipstick, and wore her curly hair loose to her shoulders. A single silver ring hung from her nasal septum, and Dean spotted a tattoo of a raven spreading its wings under her collarbone. 

“Need some help deciding?”

Dean sighed. There was no way around this. At least she would probably forget his face ten minutes after he left. “Yeah uh. I'm trying to... figure out which of these kink books are any good.”

The woman joined Dean in staring at the shelf, mumbling to herself and running her fingers along the spines. “Are you in a relationship, or is it just general interest in the subject?”

“Ah well...” How to explain this? Just trying to put it to words was proving difficult already. “I mean. I'm kinda looking to... introduce it... to somebody.”

Her hand deftly grabbed a thick softcover from the flock and deposited it into Dean's. “I like this one. It was the first one I ever read about this, and it's kinda been my Bible ever since. Got the boyfriend to read it, too. We both swear by it.” She shot him a wink and started walking off again. “Lemme know if you need anything else.”

The book wasn't heavy by any means, but there was a significant weight in Dean's hands. This wasn't just a minor suggestion or a small whimsy to spring on his friends out of nowhere. They were nowhere near that kind of uncharted territory. But he had to get it out there, into the air, or he'd probably blab his entire guts in his sleep or the next time he had a little too much to drink. 

Which is why he decided at that moment that he would tell Roman first. They'd had far more ego clashes than with Seth, but that was why it was the better choice. He and Roman tended to get anything they needed off their chests quickly and clearly, even if they had to express themselves with their fists. So, even if he ended up in an argument, at least they would both be over it sooner rather than later.

He purchased the tome with no further fanfare and returned to the hotel. Roman and Seth were still out cold when he opened the door to their room. Nonetheless, he locked himself in the bathroom and sat in the bathtub, his head leaning against the tile, as he got started reading.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean read the book from cover to cover, underlining and dog-earing everything he thought important, putting more effort into his study than he ever did in school. He familiarized himself with the terms, the practices, all of the safety measures. He also noted a number of interesting acts he wanted to give a try with Roman or Seth, doodling in their respective initial for each one.

Yet nothing could make him feel fully prepared to bring it up.

The dreams were occurring less frequently during that time. On the one hand he was thankful for the reprieve, but he also started to miss them. The feeling of relieving his aggression, stress and guilt through the ritual of punishing, being punished, acting out their odd little script for mutual pleasure. Now that he wasn't even dreaming it, he had to actually think about it. Wanted to.

And eventually he would have to make it real.

And it wasn't as if he never had a decent chance to get Roman alone for it. Hotel accommodations were always a blend of two men in one room, one in the other, or all three of them sharing two beds, or – if they were lucky – each of them with a very small and very cheap room. A few weeks went by with plenty of opportunities rearing their ugly heads and Dean watching as they waltzed away.

It was becoming unbearable. He would stare at Roman during matches, watch him lay slaps against the bare flesh of his opponents, carry them in his strong arms, smirk through his beautiful lips. Dean's skin would tingle whenever he received a clap on the shoulder or a pat on the head from him after matches. God help him if they hugged.

He longed for Roman's attention, his judgment, his discipline. His rough touch, his gentle caress.

It was only when they next had to share a bed that he could no longer go on.

Two rooms, one bed each. Seth was the lucky one to snag another rock-paper-scissors victory and get his much-needed alone time.

The night had long fallen, showers long taken and bodies long calmed. Roman was staring at the TV from his relaxed position in the queen-sized bed when Dean fell victim to a loud yawn from the armchair in the corner. 

Roman clicked the remote and the TV went dark. “Yeah, good idea,” he yawned in response.

Dean nodded. But he stayed where he sat.

“You gonna go to bed?” Roman inquired while patting the space next to him.

Fuck.

“I uh,” Dean stammered, staring at his fingernails, “I think I'll sleep here, my back is being weird.”

“Well that ain't gonna help it.” Roman then insisted on getting out of bed and approaching Dean, who shrank further into the chair. “Here, lemme try and get it for you.”

“S'fine, don't worry, I--”

Roman's hands were on his shoulders. They led him out of the chair and to the bed. He wanted to resist, wanted more time to build his courage, but he couldn't. He'd been aching for Roman to order him around for weeks. It hurt him to feel these hands on him while he had these desires, but it would've hurt more to stop him.

Dean collapsed face down onto the bed, as if he had spontaneously floated from the ceiling and landed there. 

“Where's it bugging you?” he heard from above him. Roman's hands were kneading his shoulders while he waited for the answer. Each knot that was untangled flooded his brain with endorphins and relief. A moan slipped out of his throat before he could stop it.

Dean tried to cover it up with “No, man, really, it's okay, I don't-ohhh.” Just how in the hell was he so good at this? The power to stop him just wasn't there. He was literally under his thumb, which was skillfully working at the base of his neck.

“Sleeping in a chair would only make this worse,” Roman told him. “You're not foolin' me with that tough-guy attitude, you know. You whine like a bitch when your back hurts.”

Oh, why did he have to call him that? Dean pushed his burning face even further into the comforter, as if he could hide his desires there forever. He groaned into the blanket as Roman started working lower on his spine, to the small of his back, and then his hips...

Dean scrambled to the head of the bed in time with the skip his heart gave.

“Whoa,” Roman laughed, his hands raised. “Didn't hurt you that bad, did I?”

“Roman,” Dean choked out, his face buried in his big hands. Words started tumbling out of him. “Roman, I need to talk to you about something.”

“You okay, man?” He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Dean with concern. “You've been weird for a little while. I mean, weirder than usual.”

“Y-Yeah there's a reason for that.” Dean let his hands fall to his lap, his eyes following. “I just really don't want you to hate me, all right? The last thing I want is to lose my best friends.”

“Dean.” He laid his hand on Dean's ankle, which is really all he could reach from there. “You can't lose me. I've spent way too much time with you to be weirded out by anything you say.”

Dean heard a low chuckle from Roman. His chest was tight, tied up in more knots than he had in his back. But he couldn't back away now. Couldn't go back. No stopping it.

“Fuck. Ro,” he began. He couldn't bring himself to look at him. He stared at his palms. “I've been... having these dreams. Not the hordes of crazy women dream. Worse than that. I mean, not worse. Different, at least. I mean... Ugh.” A knuckle found his way to his mouth, as if he could say the words without Roman hearing them that way. “I had a dream and now it's something I want... need. I need this thing, okay?”

“Thing?”

“Okay. Please for the love of God, just... don't walk away from me when I say this. But. I dreamed that... we... did stuff. Together. Like. Kinky shit.”

Silence hung in the air like an impenetrable fog.

Dean cut through it, having no other choice. “I mean, fuck, everybody knows you're pretty as hell, but I started having all these dreams and thoughts about you, you and Seth. You, like, dominating me and ordering me around and I think I sucked your dick in one of 'em.”

He started rambling, as he was prone to whenever he was nervous.

“And, and I dominated Seth in some other ones, it's weird as hell, but I want this, I want us to do this, like, holy shit, I know I'm fuckin' weird already and you know I get off on doing weird shit and making people uncomfortable, but I never saw this shit coming. Never. I didn't mean for it to happen. But it's all I think about, I can't get it out of my head, no matter how hard I try.” A mirthless laugh escaped him. “Hell, I bought a book. I bought a book so I could figure this shit out and be responsible about it if I ever got the balls to say it. And fuckin'... here we are.”

“Anything else?”

His deep voice surprised him. Dean didn't expect him to actually have anything to say about it. He was sure Roman would walk out of his life forever once he got all of that out. 

“Uhh,” he paused. Might as well. He was as deep into it as he could be already. “I get off on piss stuff, as it turns out. That's part of it, too, I knew that a little bit already, but the dreams, the... dreams. In the first one with you, I pissed my pants for you. To... to show I was good. Then in the one with Seth, I... damn. I gave him... a...”

In a complete turnaround, the words wouldn't come out anymore. They caught in his throat and fell from there into the aether. His mouth moved, but nothing came out but huffed breaths. He curled up into a ball and hugged his knees, staring at Roman's hand on the bedspread. Couldn't remember the last time he'd been like that. Years. Nowadays he protected himself with his fists. Now he couldn't, he was exposed, he couldn't punch his way out of it this time.

“So. You think I'm pretty?”

Dean dared to look up into Roman's smiling eyes.

“I uh... ah...” This wasn't going as he expected. Better than he expected, though. He was thankful for that. His heartbeat was out of control, though, so it took him a moment to form a proper return. “Y-Yeah? I mean. So does everybody.”

Roman leaned over and laid on his side, scooting towards Dean. “Not everybody's a little punk who's right in front of me, begging to get what's coming to him.” He laid a hand on his teammate's knee.

Oh.

“R-Roman, you're okay with it? It's okay? I mean... you...?”

“Sorry, Dean,” Roman licked his lips and stroked his hand up Dean's thigh. “But you're not my first sub.”

“F-Fuck.” Dean could barely react to the proceedings. It was okay. It was more than okay.

Except...

“Wait, you're telling me that I tortured myself for weeks about this and you're just... cool with it? You want...? All this fuckin' time, you would've been game?”

The big man shrugged. “I had the same concerns as you. Didn't wanna cause any conflict between any of us. I just hid it a little better, I guess. Gets lonely out on the road and... you don't want a stranger making you feel better. You want somebody you're already close to.”

“Oh god,” Dean sighed, his face in his hands again. “Just... I'm so relieved. You get it, you understand...”

“I understand that somebody's been hiding things from me.” His voice had changed. Usually warm and rich with laughter, Roman was speaking in low, chilly tones.

He looked up to meet his gaze, which pierced into his very soul with something dark, something that made sweat begin to bead on his forehead... but nothing truly malevolent. Nothing Dean wasn't already up for.

“Well, shit. Here we go,” he thought. 

Roman switched back to his real voice for the moment, no less serious however. “Before we do this, though, we gotta talk a little bit. We need a safeword, we need some guidelines, we need dealbreakers.”

A full ten minutes passed between them, and a myriad of words and promises were shared. Roman sat himself up at Dean's side, literally holding his hand through the negotiation process. Dean couldn't spend more than a few seconds looking Roman in the eye, his cheeks would blush heavily every time. He felt the very opposite of himself, but it didn't bother him as much as he expected. The years he spent building a tough persona, one who rolled with any punch, it was exhausting.

It helped to step outside it for the moment. Especially with Roman there to support him.

“That it?” Roman finally asked after a beat.

“I think so. I mean. I'll stop it if there's a problem. You should, too, you can stop it whenever you want.”

“Don't worry, I got this, uh... What name do you want?”

He remembered back to the dream. “Dean's fine.”

“And I am?”

It came out in a hissing sigh between his teeth and his lower lip. “Sir.”

“That's right. You'd best remember that.”

Roman whirled around and straddled Dean over his stomach, not touching him, but his presence very clear and palpable. His hands surrounded Dean on both sides of the headboard, and he leaned in close to his partner's heaving lips. Roman's lips made a turn, his cheek scraping roughly against Dean's stubble, and he settled right next to his ear.

“You've been hiding things from me, Dean. You know you're not supposed to do that, don't you?”

“Yes,” he answered as quickly as he could. “I know, I'm... I'm sorry.”

Fingers closed around his hair, on the opposite side that Roman was whispering into. Pain prickled from every follicle as his head was yanked to the side, forcing him to look into his eyes. Well, through the eye that was still open and blurring up from pain-induced tears. His cock had grown somewhat hard in the conversation phase, but it was now fast stiffening to its full potential.

“I'm sorry, Sir!” Dean yelped, remembering himself. His place.

“That's better,” he rumbled. “Now, you've confessed everything to me. And that's good. But you still have yet to make it up to me.”

He let go of Dean's hair, and Dean fell prone along the headboard, his hand coming up to put his fingers at his lips. Dean nibbled at one of his fingernails, staring up with worry at the man above him.

“Please, I'll do anything. I'm so sorry, Sir.” His heart sang as he spoke those words, his head was swimming with arousal.

“Come with me.”

Dean scrambled to his feet as Roman rose from the bed. He took the back of Dean's neck in one hand and led him across the hotel room and towards the door. Dean was ready to call a time out, until Roman opened the other door – the one to the bathroom.

“I need you to prove to me that you're willing to be good for me, okay, Dean?” Roman stopped in front of the mirror, presenting Dean to his own reflection. “Can you be good for me? Is that the face of a good boy?”

He stared into his own face. His pink cheeks and nose, his panting mouth, his light blue eyes misty with desperate lust.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Then you're gonna help me with something.” He led Dean a few steps away. Roman stood with his feet apart, facing the toilet, and let go of Dean's neck. “You're gonna hold me while I go.”


	7. Chapter 7

Dean had no idea it was possible to blush any deeper than he already had been. His entire face went hot, his ears were burning. His cock quivered. A gulp struggled down his throat as he wrung his hands together. This was happening. He was going to see... He was gonna hold...

“And there'd better not be a mess, all right? I'm gonna trust you to hold it steady.”

He snapped back to attention, his racing thoughts dissipating into the call for action. “Yes, Sir.”

“All right. Get behind me, take it out.”

Dean followed his word immediately, squatting down and positioning himself behind Roman to peek out from behind his huge frame. He reached forward, his hands shaking slightly but functioning as normally as possible. They undid the button in the front of Roman's jeans, pulled down the zipper, and one hand reached into his boxers.

His hand twitched as his fingers brushed against Roman's long, soft, silky member. The first time touching Roman like this. The feeling was almost... reverence.

But he couldn't stop to linger. He had a job to do. He gingerly pulled Roman's cock out from his underwear and jeans, revealing it in all its bronze, uncut glory.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean mumbled. He'd only caught furtive glances of it in the locker room. The constantly denied intrigue could finally bloom into full-blown admiration.

“What was that, Dean?”

“Nngh, ah...” he hadn't meant to say anything at all. But now he had to. Roman had demanded it. “It's... I'm sorry, Sir, it's... It's amazing.”

He sensed a smile in Roman's voice. “Now that's what I like to hear. I know you're good, Dean. But we all forget ourselves sometimes. It's okay.” He reached back to pat him on the head and ruffle his ginger curls. His scalp shivered at his touch. “Pay attention, now.”

Dean steadied his hand as much as he could, given the circumstances. He carefully pulled back Roman's foreskin and gently wrapped his fingers around his width. Dean aimed it, resting his other hand on his thigh, and leaned his cheek against Roman's side as he waited. Having him in his hand – no, having been ordered to have him in his hand. His hand, which was burning with their shared energy and all it entailed.

“Ready?” Roman asked.

“Mm.” Coming up with words was very difficult, the imminence creating so much delightful tension in the bottom of his stomach. Almost immediately he realized his mistake and added, “Yes Sir, ready.”

“That's good,” he chuckled warmly. “You like holding me?

An anticipatory shudder coursed through him. “God, yes, Sir.”

“I like your answers, Dean,” Roman growled from the pit of his throat. “Here we go, okay?”

Silence hung in the air as a still vapor. Dean held his breath as Roman took one in and released it.

The quiet was cut straight in half with a loud sound of liquid colliding with liquid. Dean realized he'd had his eyes closed for that moment, not quite prepared for the sight. But at the beginning, the sound was enough – especially with the groan of relief from above. In his hand he felt Roman's cock releasing steadily, arousal prickling up the hair on his arm and into his loins.

It occurred to him, though, that he would have to open his eyes in order to ensure that he made no mistakes. To keep Roman happy. He could aim himself with his eyes closed, any day – as long as he was sober. But not Roman. He took his turn heaving a deep breath and allowed himself to look.

A powerful stream was bursting forth from Roman's manhood, landing in the dead center of the water below. Jaw open with amazement, eyes open wide, legs going weak. Dean couldn't help but focus on the release, like a never-ending orgasm, and the beautiful noises resulting. He felt his pants tightening even further, straining against his jeans, the friction sending tingles throughout his entire body. 

“Dean,” Roman sighed, still relieving himself at full blast.

His heart jumped at the sound of his name, the way he let it fall from his lips like an obscene exclamation of pleasure. His head was floating with the sensory overload, yet he still managed to gasp out a dizzy, “Yes, Sir?”

“I don't want to distract you when you're doing such a good job...” His hand was still resting on his head, stroking him firmly. “But, what do you wanna do after this?”

Dean panted out a breath, his vision going blurry with lust and panic. Was there a correct answer to this question? Should he want only what Roman wanted?

“It's okay, Dean,” his stream was becoming lighter, Dean felt his muscles contract to keep pushing it out, “I wanna hear what you're thinking. I won't get mad. Tell me what you want.”

He gulped and cleared his throat, adjusting his aim with the lagging strength of Roman's relief. “I um,” he began, pushing his cheek into Roman's hip, “I want to... keep touching you. I... I want you to touch me, too... Is that okay, Sir?”

Roman chuckled as his stream disappeared and the final two jets were pushed out. As Dean shook the remaining drops away, he heard Roman mutter, “That's perfectly fine. I want that, too.” Rather than return his cock from whence it came, he turned to face Dean, who was still crouched to half his height. “But I think you're being modest. Tell me what you actually want.”

Roman bent down, his eyes never leaving Dean's gaze, sliding his hand from the top of his head to his stubbled cheek. He raised his eyebrows and smirked.

Dean dropped to his knees under his presence, his chest growing heavy with the words he was begging himself to say since his first dream.

“I wanna... Please, may I suck you, Sir?”

Roman took Dean's hands in his, placing them on his own hips and stepping closer. “Of course you can,” he assured him, his words low and kind. “And you asked so politely, that was very good. I think you'll deserve something in return if you can make me cum... Hmm? What do you think?”

Dean found his head dipping forward to meet Roman's cock. Placing a single, open-mouthed kiss onto the shaft, he breathed, “I can make you cum, Sir.”

“Then what are you waiting for, my good boy?”

His hands grasping Roman's hips, Dean's tongue snaked its way through his parted lips and lapped at the tip, which was still hanging loose from the big man's pants. Just a few touches of Dean's tongue later, it began to pulse and harden, standing strongly at attention within minutes of first contact. 

Roman was ready, and thus so was Dean.

Without even so much as a pause, Dean sucked Roman in between his lips and took at least half of his perfect length into his mouth. The man towering above him let out a pleased groan as Dean rocked his head forward and back in a steady rhythm, pressing his tongue against the long, throbbing muscle on the underside of Roman's member.

Roman laid both hands on Dean's head and played lightly with his soft hair. “Good boy,” he growled down at him. “That's real good. Keep that up...” One set of fingers curled around a fistful of hair and began to pull. Gently, then firmly, then hard enough to tug a stinging pain out of Dean's scalp.

Dean whimpered in response to the pain, trying his hardest to keep his rhythm and speed under the circumstances. The ache at the top of his head only furthered the stiffening of his own cock, still trapped behind his jeans. Tears began to blur his vision, but he persevered through all distractions. He only sucked harder at the length in his mouth, which elicited even more beautiful moans from his teammate.

“Ohh, Dean...” Roman gasped as Dean doubled his efforts, releasing his hair from his grasp. Rather than cause him pain, Roman slid his hands to the back of Dean's head and began to pull it towards him. More of his cock slid in and out of Dean's mouth, who pursed his lips in response.

With every thrust of Roman's hips, Dean pressed his tongue flat against the head of his cock. He felt him start to spasm, twitch, heard him biting down on sweet curses and groans of joy. Roman was getting close, Dean knew, he could sense it. He was prepared to swallow him down, take in his orgasm with delectation and enthusiasm.

To his disappointment, Roman suddenly pulled himself from Dean's mouth and remove his hands from the back of his head. He looked up, anxious that he'd done something wrong, that he'd displeased Roman.

Quite the opposite.

One of Roman's big hands was wrapped around his shaft, and the other pressed onto his stomach, holding up his shirt and revealing his bare pelvic area, just the very edge of his dark pubic hair. He furiously pumped at himself for a few moments before letting out a gasp. Roman's hot seed shot out and landed against Dean's chin and cheeks. Roman's pleasure dripped down to his lips and hung stickily, some of it landing on his neck. Dean licked away the semen against his mouth and reveled in the taste of Roman filling his tongue. 

Roman put himself away and joined Dean on the bathroom floor, kneeling at his level and setting his hands on Dean's shoulders. He pulled some toilet paper from the wall nearby and cleaned up whatever Dean couldn't reach with his tongue. It seemed for a moment that Roman would remain like that, gazing into him. Then, he seemed to change his mind. Roman wrapped his strong arms around Dean and pulled him close, their heaving chests pressed together and heartbeats pounding in syncopation. He stroked the back of Dean's neck, murmuring praise into his ear.

He could have stopped there, even though his own manhood was aching. His brain was swimming in chemical pleasure, his heart sang with satisfaction at having done so well. Roman was happy, he kept his promise. And it felt so good.

Yet Roman kept his own promise. Without saying a word, he released the embrace and pushed Dean's shoulders back against the wall. He reached down and flattened Dean's legs and spread them apart, settling himself in between. His face just inches from Dean's, eyes heavy with tire, he reached down and began fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants.

“Dean, you've been such a good boy,” Roman breathed as he got his jeans open. “You deserve some for yourself.”

“Thank you, Sir, I-- nngh,” Dean had barely gotten the words out before Roman had his rock-hard cock in his hand. 

Roman didn't waste any time. Without buildup, he wrapped his fingers around Dean's cock and began pumping wildly. The pleasure hit Dean like a lightning bolt. He pressed his back against the wall and his eyes clamped shut.

He felt Roman lean in close and place his head on his shoulder, his lips against his neck. Hard, open kisses landed against him and left cooling wet marks where Roman's lips had attacked him. All the while he pulled Dean off in his clenched fist. Dean's breath huffed out from deep in his lungs and into Roman's long, shining mane of jet-black hair.

He would have asked for permission, but the words couldn't form on his lips. Instead, he took a risk and laid his arms around Roman's shoulders. Roman continued as if nothing had changed, dropping his head a little bit lower. More kisses were placed along Dean's collarbone, against his Adam's apple, onto the top of his heaving chest.

Dean's hands wandered to tangle their fingers in Roman's soft hair as he gasped in pleasure and bucked his hips in response to his touch. Moans were flying out from both men to echo against the bathroom ceiling.

Roman, with a smile in his voice, groaned into Dean's chest, “You're such a good boy, Dean, so much better than I could ever ask for.” With that, he bit down on the top of his pectoral and started sucking deliberately in a concentrated spot.

“Fuck!!” Dean panted uncontrollably. It was rude of him, it wasn't the mark of a good boy to engage in such outbursts of profanity. But Roman's mouth working away at his skin, probably leaving a substantial mark, his fist wrapped around his most sensitive area and pumping pleasure and tension into his entire body.

It was too much.

Stars burst in the back of his eyelids as the pressure peaked and burst out of him, dampening his shirt and sticking it to his stomach. A voiceless gasp followed each heavy spasm of his cock, his hands clinging to Roman's silky hair. Roman pulled him all the way through it, his hand squeezing Dean until he slumped his head back against the wall.

The both of them panting from effort, Roman put Dean back away into his pants and sat next to him. Dean looked down to find a purple mark surrounded with a bloom of red on his chest. Before he could begin to admire it, Roman put his arm around Dean's shoulder and pulled his head close to his. They collapsed against each other as they came down together.

“Scene,” Roman finally whispered, laying a quick kiss against Dean's hair. “How'd I do? Anything you weren't good with?”

Dean was dizzy with bliss, feeling like he was lying down in a rowboat pitching against the ocean. Fighting against oncoming slumber, Dean mumbled, “Fuck, Ro. It was perfect. We can talk later, I'm... I'm fuckin' exhausted.”

To his surprise, Roman got to his feet, crouched down for leverage, and took Dean into his arms. He carried Dean out of the bathroom and to the bed with almost no effort. Roman laid him down gently and turned the lights off, joining him under the covers.

Dean felt two arms wrap around him and one leg slip in between the two of his. As he sank into a heavy sleep, he clutched at Roman's forearms with both hands and sighed.

“Thanks for... everything. Not running away. Playing with me. I'm so fucking relieved, I--”

Roman grunted to interrupt. “Don't even stress it, okay? I had as much fun as you did.”

Roman kissed the back of Dean's head, and in response Dean leaned down to kiss Roman's forearm. They fell asleep entangled in each other.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean and Roman weren't able to have another full encounter like the first one for several weeks to come. The circumstances never allowed them very long alone, given their busy schedule and what seemed to be randomly-selected hotel accommodations. The three teammates were booked very much together every single night for the time being. Things remained somewhat as per usual as a result.

Excepting that Dean and Roman weren't quite as disappointed if they had to bed together anymore. Under the covers, out of Seth's view, they could hold each other at the wrists, the thighs, or any other part they decided would be nice to touch.

And for a while this was good enough for the both of them. Dean was satisfied for once, feeling rejuvenated and energetic now that he had this secret off of his chest. He had an unspoken understanding between himself and Roman that sustained him through the dry spell. And for the first few days of it, he had the bruise from Roman's mouth on his chest, which tingled every time he ran his fingers across it.

But just one scene couldn't last him for the rest of his life, certainly.

A particularly strenuous leg of the tour had them in four cities in the same number of days, leaving each of them entirely exhausted and irritable when they finally had a clear stretch of twenty-four hours. Upon their arrival at the hotel, each of them trudged in and left their belongings wherever they fell. Roman and Dean each collapsed onto a separate bed, but Seth seemed to have other ideas.

“Okay,” he began, letting out a deep sigh. “No offense to either of you, but if I spend any more time with you guys, I think I'm going to strangle somebody. I'm going to get dinner by myself and hit the gym. So... I'll be back in a few hours. Okay?”

“Go crazy,” Roman insisted, waving a hand in approval.

“Cool,” agreed Dean, who was lying face-down on the pillows. “I'll be here. Doing the same thing I'm doing now.”

“All right. I promise I'll be less of a dick when I get back.” He stepped out of the room and the door shut behind him.

Dean well and truly was tired. The last week had been difficult on all of them, but having no time or opportunity to relieve some of the stress had made it especially hard for him in particular. As much as he needed to play with Roman, it wouldn't kill him to take a few moments' rest. 

“Oh, Dean?” Roman's voice was low, stern. 

“Hm?” In spite of his answer, he knew what that voice meant. His heartbeat stuttered in his chest, but he didn't stir from where he was. It wouldn't be as much fun if there wasn't anything to punish him for. 

The very next thing he heard was Roman rolling off of the other bed and approaching him quickly. Dean's wrist was then caught in a firm grip, and in the next moment he had been rolled onto his back and was facing a rather annoyed-looking Roman, who loomed over him from the side of the bed.

“We've been over this. You know how you're supposed to address me, don't you?” The glare then contorted into a malicious grin. Dean's heart began to pound at the back of his throat at that moment. As was true in his first dream, his smile was scarier than his glower. “And to think I brought you a present today. I expected you to be a good boy like I know you can be.”

A present? Shit, he was really getting into this. What the hell could he have gotten, though? It occurred to him the ridiculous variety of toys he'd read about. And considering Roman was far more experienced in this area than he was, it could be any number of things.

But he trusted him. And he knew he could stop at any time he needed to. Rather, that's why he trusted him.

Still, under Roman's remonstration, Dean felt himself shrink back into his submissive mindset, feeling so much smaller than him, letting his power flow out for the man standing over him to take it for his own. His breathing tightened. One hand trembled up to his mouth to take in a knuckle to chew on.

He wavered, “Sir, I...”

“I don't like to have to punish you, Dean.” His grip tightened around Dean's wrist. With the same speed and grace he demonstrated in the ring earlier that week, Roman rolled his partner back over onto his stomach, using his free hand to hold him down by the back of his neck. “I want to treat you nicely. Why else would I get you a gift?”

“Sir, I'm sorry,” Dean burst out as quickly as he could in the pause. “I-I've been so tired. I didn't mean to--”

SMACK.

Roman's hand struck with a sharp noise, sending a stinging sear across Dean's buttocks. He sucked in a breath, trying hard not to cry out in pain, even as he felt his skin burn and swell from the blow.

A growl of both arousal and irritation rumbled from Roman's chest. “We both know that isn't any excuse. Like I said, I want to be nice. But if you can't be good, I have to discipline you. You understand that. Don't you?”

“Yes, Sir...” His voice was small, quiet, knowing.

“Tell you what though,” he released Dean's hand and stepped away, leaving to rummage through his suitcase. “I have faith that you can be good. So, before I finish your punishment, I'll give you your present. Close your eyes, okay?”

Dean complied. He heard some rustling, the trill of a suitcase zipper, and then footsteps softly approaching.

“Sit up. Get that shirt off.”

He followed Roman's instructions, eyes still shut tight, and placed his hands on his lap after rising upright and dropping his shirt onto the floor.

“Okay, good. Now... open your eyes.”

Swallowing hard, he allowed himself to look.

Roman stood in front of him, holding in his big hands a shining red leather collar. Through its middle lay a ring of round metal studs, and placed in its center was a flat metal tag embossed with the word “Dean”. Resting over Roman's shoulder was a matching leash, as yet unattached to the collar. Roman was staring down, admiring the object resting atop his fingers, and he ran a tongue across his lips. 

Dean's heart swelled, for several reasons. This thing was nice. Probably rather expensive, too. Notwithstanding he bothered to get it engraved and everything. And how it would feel to put it on – to be likened to a pet needing to be restrained. To have Roman leading him about, being at his mercy on a physical level, as well. 

And on top of all of that, it proved one very important thing: Roman truly was enjoying this just as much as Dean was. Enough to invest in it.

“Sir,” he breathed out through his teeth and bottom lip, “oh my god.”

“What do we say, hmm?” His eyebrow raised as he reached forward and lay it around Dean's neck.

“Thank you... Sir, I... it's...”

Roman closed the buckle and laid his hands on each of Dean's shoulders. The collar rested heavy around his neck, not too tight to choke him, but snug enough to stay in place. The supple leather caressed his skin, the musky scent filling his nostrils.

He lifted a hand to fiddle with the jingling name tag, looking up into Roman's eyes. “I love it, Sir.”

“It looks great on you, Dean.” Roman reached up and held Dean's blushing cheeks in both hands. “I wouldn't have gotten this if I knew you weren't a good boy. So I expect you'll be able to take your punishment quietly. I don't want to hear a single complaint out of you until we're done, okay?”

Dean's manhood, already pressing insistently against the crotch of his jeans, twitched at the thought. “Yes, Sir, thank you.”

“Now...” He released his face and began pacing back and forth in front of him. “What am I going to do with you?” Roman seemed deep in thought, but Dean wasn't about to speak up at this point. He was in enough trouble as it was.

Roman stopped in his tracks and then shot a somewhat mysterious glance towards Dean. A smirk played at his lips that made his heart drop into his stomach. In one smooth motion, Roman clicked the leash onto the ring of the collar. And in the next moment he was being pulled up to his feet, Roman leading him off of the bed and across the hotel room.

And, like last time, he was led to the bathroom door.

“You... want me to hold you again, Sir?” he asked timidly as the door was opened before him.

Roman shook his head. “Not today. You don't get to touch my dick until you've shown a little humility.”

Dean allowed himself to be pulled in, the bathroom door swinging all the way open behind the both of them. Roman pointed him towards the shower, which stood on its own as a small room isolated only by a glass door. It occurred to Dean that, when the shower had its own separate area from a bathtub, it was commonly referred to as a “wet room”. He wasn't sure why. Well. He was sure why it was called a “wet room”, but what he wasn't sure about was why this occurred to him at that second.

Still.

A few steps later he stood facing Roman from inside the room, the door hanging wide open. Nothing between them but the threshold and several questions. Roman was staring at him expectantly, but with no indication of what should happen.

Dean stared at his feet, which were covered by a slightly worn pair of white socks. Following several seconds of silence, he cleared his throat and glanced upwards at his superior.

“Ah... may I please ask you something, Sir?”

Roman nodded, leash still firmly in hand.

“Wh-What do you want me to do here?”

A chuckle rumbled out from Roman's lips. “You're gonna carry out your punishment all by yourself today. Do you remember your dream, Dean? Remember the way you showed me how you can be good? That you'd do anything to prove it to me?”

Oh.

Dean's face immediately burned red as the memory reappeared to him. His eyebrows furrowed at the thought, he shuffled his feet, his bottom lip hid itself under his front teeth. Pulse racing, stomach twisting, breath huffing. A hard gulp struggled its way down his throat.

“We had a long drive, didn't we, Dean?” Roman asked, stepping forward and pulling the leash. He placed his free hand on Dean's cheek as he was forced closer towards him. His voice creaked low in his chest: slow, deliberate, mocking. “You haven't been to the bathroom in a while. You always wait too long, don't you? You wait until you're squirming, until you can't hold it much longer. That's a bad habit you have. What happens if you misjudge your own strength... and you humiliate yourself in front of everybody?”

His loins stirred beneath his jeans, constricted slightly by his spandex compression briefs. Squirming a little where he stood, he shook his head and stared down at the floor in shame. 

“I-I don't know--”

“Well, we're gonna find out right now.”

Even though he'd begun to think about it, accept what he was meant to do, it wasn't real to him until Roman insisted that it would happen. Imminently.

And it was at his demand that he noticed the pressure that had built up in his bladder over the hours they spent on the road. It hadn't been urgent enough to need taking care of yet, but it was only then he noticed how badly he needed relief. That was often how he got into the sorts of situations Roman was talking about. His focus was quite good when he needed it to be. But for the most part, the rest of the world disappeared once he set his mind on something.

He felt his fluids shift at this revelation, and as a result he squeezed his thighs together to keep them in.

“I knew it,” Roman laughed, glancing down at Dean's groin. “You're pretty close to wetting yourself, aren't you?”

Dean found himself nodding slowly.

Roman's hand fell to his side. His grip on the leash loosened, and as a result Dean could straighten his posture. But then the big, tattooed man leaned in close, his nose just inches from Dean's. And he breathed one word, in an unquestionable command.

“Go.”

A gasp fell out of Dean's lungs. He clutched his hands close to his chest, wringing them together. And at that moment the bottom fell out under his pride, spilling it into his guts and eliminating all hesitation.

Against all of his instincts, all of his learning, against everything polite society had drilled into his body, he relaxed his entire lower half. His thighs loosened, his loins decompressed. All of his stress and frustration from the previous weeks, everything he'd been keeping in his body – he let everything go.

He heard it just a moment before he even felt it. A low hissing from underneath his abdomen, the sound of liquid flowing against fabric. And then the loud splattering of his fluids colliding with the floor of the shower.

Roman was beaming. And he seemed not to know which made him happier – Dean's groin, or Dean's facial expression.

The crotch of his jeans grew hot and wet, his relief flowing down his left leg in various little waterfalls, sticking the fabric to his skin. His cheeks were burning as hot as the fluid that was rushing out of him and soaking his pants and socks. 

His eyes closed in ecstasy with his release. As he got used to the feeling of letting go entirely, his urine flowed out in even greater quantities, starting to soak his other leg and raining down onto the shower floor with tremendous, echoing noise. The liquid streaming against his skin, down his legs, pooling at his feet and trickling down the drain raised goosebumps against his arms and chest. He felt his nipples hardening with this reaction.

A whimper escaped his throat, of relief, of pleasure, of humiliation. Even without looking he could feel Roman's stare boring into him.

It was wrong. Completely embarrassing. 

One of the most arousing experiences of his life.

His release began spilling out slower with each passing second, until the last trickles disappeared as drops compared to an ocean. By that point, as he stood soaked with the wet fabric clinging to his crotch and legs, Roman gazing at him with mirth, he was aching for a different kind of relief.

“Dean,” Roman sighed, placing a hand on the top of Dean's head and patting him softly, “I know it wasn't easy to do that for me. But you did so well. Such a good boy...” He laid a gentle kiss against his burning forehead. “I think you've suffered enough, hmm?”

Dean's lips quivered. It was near impossible to formulate a proper response in his intense and all-encompassing shame. But he managed.

“I hope it's clear how sorry I am, Sir. I did my best.”

He received a warm smile in reply. “Don't worry. I know. Now, let's get these wet clothes off you. Then we can move on to your reward.” Roman put the loop at his end of the leash around his wrist and went about undoing the button and zipper of Dean's drenched pants. 

His blush deepened further – he was touching his... his shame. His filthiness. Without flinching. Willingly.

Before he knew it, he was stepping out of his pants and underwear, nudging them to the corner of the shower with his foot. Roman even bothered to remove Dean's socks, adding them to the wet pile of clothing.

Dean now naked but for his collar, Roman stretched up and took the removable shower head from its holder. A kind smile still on his face, he turned on the water and sprayed it against his hand for a few moments. And when it was warm enough, he directed it towards Dean's lower half. The stickiness was soon washed away down the drain, and despite his raging erection, he felt clean once more.

Roman shut off the water and retrieved a clean towel from the rack on the wall next to them. With countless deft and gentle pats, Dean was dry.

It then dawned on him how much he left up to Roman, how much he was taking care of him. He hid his face in his hands as Roman hung up the towel where he'd found it. But he felt two hands take his wrists and slowly pull them away.

And he met Roman's sparkling gray eyes.

His legs seemed to float as Roman led him out of the shower by the leash. They turned to jelly as he stepped out, ending up on his knees at Roman's feet. His crotch was right at his eye level then, and he could see even through Roman's jeans that he was probably just as hard as he was.

“May... may I...?”

“Mm-hm.”

Dean's hands scrambled to open Roman's pants, fumbling weakly against the button and zipper. Somehow, out of sheer force of will, he managed to free Roman's cock, which stood proudly at attention in front of his eyes.

“Oh god, thank you, Sir...”

His mouth fell open just at the moment the door leading out to the hall swung into the room, Seth stepping into view with a gym towel hanging around his shoulders.

“Hey, I decided to take a short run instead, so I was thinking we could eat togeth--”

The three men each froze where they were. 

Dean panted heavily. Seth made a cut-off little noise that died before becoming a proper response. Roman remained silent.

Seth's eyes narrowed. His head nodded twice. And he turned to walk out of the room.


	9. Chapter 9

“That's it,” Dean thought, his hands and knees growing cold on the bathroom floor. “Seth is going to fucking explode. I'm gonna get kicked out of the Shield. Hell, the whole company. I'm as good as fired. The whole world is gonna laugh at me, I'll never get hired to wrestle again. Shit. Goddammit. Ruined my entire life because of a stupid-ass sex dream. What the fuck do I do now?”

In the time it took Dean to collapse to the floor and run through all of those possibilities, Roman had put himself away, darted out of the hotel room, and returned with a very unhappy Seth over his shoulders in a fireman's carry.

Roman shut the door with one foot and dumped Seth onto one of the beds, pointing at him and commanding, “Stay.”

He then returned to the bathroom with a clean shirt and pair of jeans, getting onto his knees himself to offer them to the man cowering on the floor. Dean snatched them up with shaking hands and shoved them on, struggling to keep the lump in his throat from drawing any tears from his eyes.

Once dressed, Dean prepared to stand up, gather his things, and trudge off into the rest of his life, but Roman took each of his shoulders in hand and held him there.

He gazed into him.

Roman gently laid his own forehead onto Dean's, taking a deep breath in and slowly heaving it out. Without being prompted, Dean followed him, sucking in a long breath in time with his teammate. After three of these, Dean felt his head clearing, his chest calming.

“It's okay,” Roman mumbled, patting Dean on the back and standing up. “We'll be okay.” He offered a hand, which his partner took, and Roman helped him to his feet.

They were about to leave the bathroom and face Seth when Roman stopped short. Dean was about to ask, but realized the problem as soon as Roman pointed silently to his neck.

“Oh, shit,” he gasped. The name tag jingling, Dean removed the collar from around his neck and laid it onto the counter. It seemed wrong, somehow, to take it off himself. But the scene was over, and there was real life to deal with.

His other teammate. His partner. Friend.

Eyes boring into the carpet, Dean plodded out of the bathroom and into the chair in the corner. He would have looked at Seth, or even Roman, but his peeling cuticles were far easier to face at the moment.

“Okay,” Roman began as he pulled the desk chair into the space between his two partners. “The three of us are going to hash all of this out right now. None of us leave this room until we're all cool.” His voice, deep and authoritative, at the very least assured Dean that he was safe at that moment.

He dared for a moment to look up at Seth, who was staring incredulously at his own feet. His face was beet red, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands slowly twisting his gym towel into knots. The silence hung heavy, to the point where Dean felt he might choke on it soon enough. Roman shot a glance at the both of them, and sighed.

“I uh, I guess I'll start, then.” He laced his big hands on his lap and looked straight into Seth's face. “Seth, I'm really sorry you had to see that. I'm sorry we were involved like that and keeping it a secret from you. I know we all have a lot of trust for each other, and I know it's gotta be really weird to find out like that.”

Seth's lips tightened. His head seemed to shake unconsciously as he uttered a short sigh.

Roman waited for a response, but upon receiving none went on, “Was there anything you wanted to say to either of us?”

A humorless chuckle escaped Seth. “What the hell do you want me to say? I find my two best friends about to fuck each other, I decide to give you two some privacy, and suddenly we're doing 'Group Therapy with Roman' or some shit?” He threw the towel onto the floor and stood up to start pacing impatiently next to the bed. “And was I hallucinating or were you wearing a fucking dog collar just now?” 

Dean shrunk into the chair, as if to dodge the gesture that Seth made toward him. It went against his instincts to sit in silence, rather than get up and start yelling, but this situation was highly abnormal, and he intended to get through it as quietly as possible.

“Dean.” Roman turned to him. Shit, he was expecting him to talk, too. “Maybe you should explain what was happening.”

“I think it was pretty fuckin' clear what was happening,” Dean grumbled.

Seth nodded, “Yeah, I agree, which is why I was gonna leave.”

Roman stood as well, yet made no move towards the door or Seth. “Just calm your ass down and listen, all right, Seth?”

Following a short and tense stare down, Seth threw his hands up and flopped back onto the bed. Roman also returned to his seat and nodded expectantly at Dean.

The weight that had been lifted weeks ago, when he confessed to Roman, had sunk back into his chest and shoulders. His breath was shallow. He had no choice but to be honest. He wasn't sure where to begin, so he settled with starting like Roman had.

“Look, man I'm... sorry, all right? I didn't mean for all this to happen. A while ago, I just... started having these dreams about you and Roman. And it was drivin' me nuts, they kept happening and I kept trying not to think about it, but... eventually... I couldn't help it. I told Roman. And... he was okay with it. So... we...”

A shuddering sigh fell out of his chest.

“I-I dunno. I told him because I thought you would freak out--”

“You're damn right I'm freaking out!” Seth exclaimed from his corner of the room. 

Dean winced, but allowed himself to glare into Seth's eyes across the room. Now that it was out there, he certainly wasn't comfortable, but his hackles were finally active again. “Okay, look, I'm trying to be cool about this.”

“How,” came the flat riposte. “How in the hell can you be cool about this? For fuck's sake, how long has this been going on?”

“Just a few weeks,” Roman admitted.

“A few weeks, god fucking--” Seth hid his face in his hands and tried to breathe. “I can't even believe this. Christ. There's thousands of women out there who would be begging to fuck you any way you want, but you two...”

“I trust him,” Dean mumbled, his face going red again. “We're always together, and... well... I started needing him--”

“Well, I have needs, too!”

A pall fell over the three men. No one was sure how to react. Everyone's eyes bulged with astonishment – even Seth's.

“What?!” Dean pushed the bangs out of his face. As if seeing more clearly would help him hear what Seth had just admitted.

Roman was the only cool head in the room, but even his eyebrows were raised. “Seth,” he said in a measured tone, “were you... jealous? Is that why you tried to leave?”

Seth fumed, mostly at himself for slipping like that. Dean almost wanted to laugh. Seth Rollins, who always had to be right, who demanded more out of his team than anyone else, who always got the last word, was angry because he wanted in on their... thing. Whatever that thing was. 

Nothing about this debacle was going the way he expected. He couldn't really complain, but he was having trouble processing it.

“All right,” Roman conceded, getting up and joining Seth on the bed. He put a hand on his shoulder. “We really didn't want you to be uncomfortable, man. That's why we kept it to ourselves. You get that, right?”

“Yeah...”

“So, I wanna hear what you've been keeping to yourself.”

Seth hesitated, and spoke at the carpet rather than anyone else in the room. “Well you both know already, you spend enough time with somebody, out on the road, you're lonely, you... you know. God dammit, I don't know!”

Roman nodded. “Yeah, we get it. What do you want from us right now? How can we make this all easier for you?”

“I dunno,” he snarled. “A... hug would be nice, I guess.”

One tattooed arm pulled Seth into a firm hug. Though he was the one who asked for it, Seth seemed reluctant to return it. He awkwardly clung to Roman's arms, but he was looking at Dean, with an apologetic spark in his deep brown eyes.

Seth. That face of his killed Dean every time. His strong nose, the scruff on his cheeks and chin, that stupid little gap in his top front teeth.

Dean must have been smiling without realizing it, because he found the corners of Seth's lips curling into a shy grin.

“Just get over here, you asshole,” Seth chuckled. “God damn, how the hell do I put up with you two?”

“'Cuz we're all really fuckin' pretty,” Dean replied as he made his way over to his teammates. Rather than take the gentle approach as Roman had, Dean tackled the two of them head-on, sending all of three sprawling on the bed.

“Aggh, you fucking dork!” Seth shouted, muffled by Dean's arm.

Dean smirked, even though his face was mashed in between Seth's and Roman's shoulders. “Oh shut up, you love having my body all over you.” He squirmed in between them and laid there, finally able to relax after a rather stressful series of events.

“So,” Roman piped up. “Where do we go from here, Seth?”

“Aah, I dunno,” he sighed. “Still gettin' used to the whole idea, it's kinda weird...” He gave it some thought as Dean began stroking the blond half of his hair. “Okay, how about... for now, I just watch whatever the fuck you two were doing before?”

“That's fine with me. Dean, are you okay with that?”

Seth, watching. Watching him pushed around, humiliated, utterly controlled by Roman.

That would make everything about ten times worse... which made it twenty times better.

“Yeah.”

“Then let's get ready.”

Roman and Dean returned to the bathroom and shut the door behind them while Seth waited on the bed. Roman pulled off Dean's shirt and put the collar back around his neck. It was almost right where they left off. And his dominant was far more than ready to get back into it.

That look struck Roman's eyes again – chilly, stern, hungry. He took hold of the leash and wrapped it around his own wrist in a languid motion. The leash went short, taut, pulling Dean's neck towards him.

Dean's heart melted at the expression on Roman's face and he felt his legs going weak once more. He was more than ready for this, especially with a spectator to make it that much more embarrassing. He was already getting hard again.

“Okay, Dean. We have a guest tonight, don't we? So you have to be twice as good as usual. You got that?”

He nodded, beginning to ache so sweetly in the core of his stomach. “Yes, Sir.”

Roman beamed at him. And then his smile took on a more sinister mood. “We're gonna show Seth just how good you are. Go into that shower and pick up your underwear.”


	10. Chapter 10

His underwear. His... underwear?

His underwear...

As if it was sneaking up on him, Dean slowly turned his head toward the shower. His bright red spandex compression shorts, sitting half-soaked on top of his similarly wet jeans. They hadn't even been rinsed by the water that had cleaned his body. Still filthy.

And now, even Seth would know about it.

Heartbeat in his throat, Dean stepped into the shower as Roman loosened his grip on the leash. The tile was still wet, cold against his bare feet. He bent down and felt the waistband of the shorts. One of the only parts that had remained somewhat dry. Save for the waist and the very edges of the legs, the whole of them were darkened and damp. They were no longer dripping, but the damage was clear.

There would be no mistaking what happened.

He'd never live this down.

His hardness was never more obvious to him now that he wasn't wearing underwear.

Roman tugged on the leash, just enough to get Dean's attention, and nodded sideways towards the now opened door. The man leading exited first, pulling along his lagging charge. Dean's face was already nearly as red as the shorts in his hands before he even left the bathroom.

Seth was still sitting up on the bed, observing his teammates with anticipation. His eyes widened as he saw Dean, his head lowered, wearing only the collar and a pair of jeans, his hands behind his back.

“Ohh-hoho, man...” Seth laughed, covering his mouth with both hands. In no way was the laugh intended to mock Dean – rather it denoted his surprise at how much he enjoyed it. Dean could tell, it was the same one he used whenever he watched a Divas match wherein one wrestler employed a chokehold with her thighs.

He really couldn't mock Dean for any of his odder proclivities at this point.

“So what do you think, Seth?” Roman asked, stroking Dean underneath his chin. “Collar looks good on him, doesn't it? Don't you love this color on him?”

Dean risked looking up at Seth for a second, finding him looking all kinds of interested. Whether or not he realized it, he was beaming, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead. And because he was wearing athletic shorts, it was clear that he was already becoming aroused.

“That is pretty nice,” Seth agreed with a slow nod. 

“Hear that? You look real good right now.” Roman pushed Dean out in front of him. “And you are good, I already know that. So, why don't we show him? Go ahead, Dean.”

Fuck.

Once again Dean had the pleasure of his cock hardening at the same time that his heart leaped into his throat. He was getting very used to that sensation.

Dean gulped. His fingers trembling, he brought one hand out from behind his back, his wet shorts dangling at his side. Seth seemed confused at the sight, but curious.

“Dean,” Roman admonished. “He can't see from there. Hold 'em up, come on.”

“Yes, Sir,” he mumbled at the carpet. He took one corner of the waistband in his other hand and, staring at his own feet, held up the garment so that Seth could see.

Following several seconds of silence, and another of understanding, Seth started laughing again.

Okay, now he was mocking him.

“Oh my god,” he snickered, causing Dean to bite his lower lip in embarrassment. “Is... is that what I think it is?”

Roman tousled Dean's hair, chuckling a little bit himself. “What does it look like to you?”

“Looks like he pissed himself.”

He had to say it. Put it to words.

Usually when Dean felt humiliated he would try to punch his way through it. But nothing could be done about it here. Not when he'd asked for this kind of treatment. All he could do is blush and lower his head even further.

“Wow.” Seth's confident smirk was audible in his voice. “Big, strong, badass Dean Ambrose. I can't even believe it...”

“Seth,” Roman began with some warning in his tone. “It wasn't an accident. Dean actually has pretty good control of his bladder. Unlike some guys we know.”

It was Seth's turn to blush. Dean lifted his head and grinned. His heart warmed a bit to know Roman wasn't just there to discipline. In spite of his shame, comfort washed over him at the knowledge that he was well taken care of. 

“This was his punishment,” Roman continued. “Sometimes he forgets how to be good... And he has to pay for it.”

Dean's arms and face fell at the same time. He really didn't have much to gloat about.

“It's okay,” the tattooed one assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You shouldn't be embarrassed, Dean. These are proof that you're a good boy for me. You did well. I'm so proud of you.” With that, he planted a kiss on the side of his head and pulled him close.

Then he blushed for a different reason.

“So you've proven how good you are,” Roman took the underwear from his charge's hands and stuffed them into Dean's back pocket. “And that means you get your reward now. I'm sorry it came so late, Dean, but you remember, we were... interrupted.”

Seth looked away.

Dean couldn't help but grin a bit more. Not only was Seth here to watch, he was getting a bit of the sub treatment, himself. “He'd better get used to that,” he thought as he dropped to his knees.

Roman stood with his legs apart over Dean, the leash still in one hand, and the other hooked on a belt loop on his jeans. “Hmm? What're you doing down there? What do you want?”

Dean clutched at Roman's pants, staring up at him with pleading eyes. “My... reward? Please, Sir?”

“I know what you want, but I want to hear it from you. I wanna hear you beg me a little, okay?”

He heard Seth make a little gasp from across the room, not so much of surprise, but of anticipation.

The kneeling man pulled himself forward, closer to Roman, wrapping his arms up around his waist and resting his cheek on his thigh. “Sirrr, please... Can I suck you?” He nuzzled against Roman's crotch, the denim scratching against his stubble.

“Suck me... where?” That wicked grin was so clear in his voice.

He'd really have to say it... in front of Seth. Those words. Seth watching, listening, snickering from the other side of the room. It ached him at the root of his being, the level of shame he was experiencing, but it hurt him so happily in his lower stomach and groin.

A breath dragged out from his lungs. He couldn't stand it, it was too much. His very essence itched, he had to experience some sort of sensation.

Dean parted his lips and took the top of Roman's jeans in his teeth, pulling the button open. 

“I need to suck your cock, Sir. Please,” he insisted before pulling his jeans open entirely, revealing the arousal contained only by a thin layer of cotton. He leaned forward and rubbed his cheek against Roman's erection. “Please, please lemme suck your cock. God damn, I'd do anything for you, Sir. I need to suck you off...” It surprised even him, how easily he slipped into that space, how evenly the words flowed from his lips, how natural it felt to plead with Roman. He bit at Roman's underwear, keeping it between his teeth, panting.

“Holy shit,” Seth muttered from the bed.

“Ohh, good, good,” Roman whispered, stroking Dean's hair. “That's so good, Dean, I've never heard anyone beg so well.” A second later, with the undoing of a single button, Roman's dick stood hard and throbbing in front of Dean's face. “Go ahead, Dean, you deserve it.”

Without any pause for breath, Dean took Roman in hand and in mouth, sucking urgently at the head, lapping underneath. The man standing above him let out a groan at his enthusiastic efforts.

“Oohh, good boy, Dean,” he sighed as he patted him on the cheek. “Such a good boy...”

Dean moaned against him, running the end of his tongue underneath the head as he paused for breath. As his tongue swirled about, he stared up into Roman's eyes, who looked upon him with approval. A blush of delight spread over his cheeks.

In addition, he hazarded a quick glance at Seth. To his complete and utter joy, he found his other teammate palming his own crotch, his cheeks red and his lower lip caught under his teeth. 

He let out a chuckle as he dove back in, taking nearly half of Roman's length into his mouth. Then he began pumping Roman's shaft, his saliva slicking his hand and allowing it to slide easily. The dual action of his mouth and fingers had Roman rocking his hips forward and letting out small happy moans.

The noises, the motions of his hips, the twitching of Roman's cock, each contributed to the pulsing, aching erection pressing against the zipper of Dean's pants. And his free hand clung to the edge of Roman's jeans, fingers scraping against the denim, because it longed for friction of any sort. He could have easily reached down to rub himself between his thighs, but...

He didn't have permission.

And he had to be good this time. Had to.

As if he could read his mind, Seth piped up from the bed, “Dean, you should jack yourself off, too. I'd love to see that.”

Dean almost chuckled to himself around Roman's shaft. Seth was far more into this than he wanted to let on at first. But it seemed he was the only one who found it amusing.

He felt a hand press the top of his head, an indication to pause. His heart leaped into his throat, forcing a swallow. The length slid out of his mouth and left saliva dripping from his chin. “Sir?” Dean asked quietly as he built up the courage to look at Roman. “I-I'm sorry, I can do better--”

“Dean, no,” his dominant crooned, stroking his curls with care. “You're doing great, I promise.” He turned his eyes from the man below to the man across the room. “Seth, did I ask for your opinion?”

Seth gave pause, his eyes going wide again as his hand fell from his crotch to his side. “Oh, well... no, I guess not--”

Roman's voice chilled once more, rolling from his throat like an avalanche in the distance. “When I wanna hear from you, I'll ask. All right?”

His hands raised up, palms out in concession. “Okay, man, I'm sorry.”

“This ain't a little show just for your benefit. We invited you to observe, and that's it. Clearly you'd like to participate. Maybe I should remind you of your own place, Seth. Cocky little bastard like you could use some discipline, I think. You want me to teach you a lesson, boy?”

Seth shrunk where he sat. It didn't appear that he was truly scared of Roman. Dean sensed from him more... obedience. 

Roman offered his hands out and pulled Dean up from the floor. “Or maybe,” he grumbled with some measure of mischief in his eyes, “I'll let Dean do that for me.”

Dean lit up like it was Christmas morning. And it must have shown in his eyes, because Roman laughed gently when he turned to look at him.

“Would you like that, Dean?”

“Yes, Sir!” he answered, perhaps a little too quickly. He shot a malevolent grin to Seth, who swallowed hard but smiled at the concept.

For his enthusiasm, Roman gave him a pat on the shoulder and a kiss on the forehead. “Maybe another time, okay? For now, come with me over here.” Leash in hand, loose due to Dean's compliance, he led him to the empty bed as Seth turned his body around to watch.

“Here, let me get this for you,” Roman insisted. Without fanfare he reached down to undo Dean's pants, pulling them down and allowing him to step out of them. He then removed his own jeans, seemingly content with just his boxers surrounding his freed manhood.

The tattooed one slid onto the mattress and sat against the headboard, patting his lap twice. Dean climbed onto the bed and to the indicated position, carefully planting his bottom on Roman's bare thighs. 

“Come closer, Dean.” While he shuffled forward Roman went on, “You've been such a good boy today, I think you deserve something even better...”

Once he had apparently gotten close enough, Dean quickly came to the revelation of what he meant by that. Roman pulled Dean's chest downward by the leash, causing their cocks to press together. Each of them heaved a sigh in unison at the contact, and a gasp could be heard from the other bed.

Roman wrapped his fingers around their shafts, Roman's long, uncut dick providing a fascinating contrast to Dean's manhood. He began rubbing up and down, revealing the head of Roman's cock with each pump downward. And it wasn't long before the both of them were beading with precum at their openings.

“How's it feel, Dean?” came a groan from Roman's lips. “Talk to me, good boy. Tell me everything.”

Dean had the tendency to ramble when excited, and this time was no different. But he could barely speak from the tension mounting within him. Everything that came out of his mouth was punctuated with a desperate noise that he couldn't contain.

“Nngh, Sir, it feels so good,” he huffed, his hands clutching at themselves against his own chest. “God, you make me so hard it hurts sometimes, mmh, I can barely stand it, I feel like I have to touch myself or I'm gonna explode—aagh, right there, oh god, right there... It's like your hand just knows exactly where my sweet spot is, all the time, like I'm just cumming over and over again with every—FUCK. Ohhh god damn...”

His own mouth would be his undoing. Revealing himself like this to Roman – and Seth watching the whole thing go down. Watching him unravel in Roman's lap while he pleasured Dean and himself, pumped away at their shafts, his breath misting hot against Dean's ear. Like he'd been laid completely bare for the whole world to see.

Being so vulnerable was absolutely humiliating.

A bit of saliva trickled from the corner of his mouth as he shuddered under Roman's hand, the shame only increasing the volume of his pleasure.

Before he could say anything else, he felt himself being pulled forward even closer, his lips colliding with Roman's. And somehow, this was what made him blush the deepest that day. Not being caught with his pants down, not revealing his punishment to Seth, not being entirely naked and getting jerked off while pressed to Roman's cock. It was the first time his and Roman's lips touched.

He barely had time to take in the significance of that moment, for he found himself gasping against Roman's lips as the pressure became too much to hold in any longer.

Roman pulled himself away and mumbled to him, “Cum for me, Dean, like a good boy. That's it, come on. I want you to cum right now. Good boy...”

Dean didn't realize his eyes were shut by this point, as a bright light burst in front of his vision during the moment of climax. Relief and pleasure streamed from him as his thighs and stomach burned so happily. And the feeling only ramped up as he felt Roman's cock twitching against him and heard the man below him growl with delight. Roman pumped their orgasms forth with his squeezing, twitching hand that soon was wet and sticky with their shared pleasure. 

As the last spasms shot through both men, Roman panted out, “Scene.”

Dean rolled over off of Roman and lay on his heaving back with his limbs splayed out in exhaustion. His softening cock and his stomach were damp with cum, and he idly trailed a finger through the wetness against his abdominals.

He heard an aching gasp ring out from the other side of the room. In spite of his tire, he needed to see this. Dean lifted himself on his elbows just in time to see Seth with a knuckle firmly jammed between his teeth, whining through each tremble of his lower half, hand rubbing furiously against his still clothed groin. At last, his hand fell away, revealing a shining wet spot on the front of his shorts.

“God damn...” Seth groaned as he collapsed against the bed. “That was... something.”

“You bet your ass it was,” Roman laughed, sliding off of the bed and heading into the bathroom. He returned with a few hand towels, one of which he threw to Dean and the other busy cleaning himself up. “I swear man, I thought you were gonna piss yourself when I went off on you.”

He snickered in response, “Hey, hey, I'm not Dean, all right?”

Dean fell prone as he wiped the towel against his stomach. “I'm gonna beat your ass later when I'm not so tired, Seth. Shit, I'll _make_ you piss yourself when I get my hands on you for a scene...”

“Yeah, you two have a long conversation ahead of you.” Roman sat at the desk and crossed his legs. “Let's have it over room service. I'm not fuckin' walking after that...”

Seth and Dean exchanged grins from across the room.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient, lovelies! Here, have an extra long chapter because you had to wait so long for the next one. Herein, Bratty Sub Seth Rollins makes his debut. Enjoy.

The backseat of an SUV wasn't exactly a locked hotel room. It certainly didn't provide complete privacy. But it was only Roman with them, at the driver's seat, and nothing they said would surprise him. Especially since he was more experienced in this area than either of them.

Having watched Dean and Roman at work the previous night, and the long conversation about deal-breakers that resulted, seemingly made Seth quite eager to get involved, himself. They'd barely shut the doors of the rental car before he spoke up on the subject.

“So... what else have you guys done? Like, in your scenes or whatever.”

Once more Seth was in the back seat, his headphones blaring around his neck with some punk band that he seemed to only listen to when he wasn't actually listening to it. Roman was staring at the road and trying desperately to contain his grin. Dean didn't even make an attempt.

The scruffy one turned to look at his partner, who seemed absolutely baffled that Dean might be amused by this question.

Roman answered before Dean could figure out a snarky enough response. “A lot of what you saw is what we've already done. We really just do it in a cycle of punishment, service, and reward. You and Dean talked about what you definitely won't do last night, so I think you both need to talk about what you do want from a scene now.”

Dean gazed for a moment at Roman's calm and warm demeanor. It occurred to him that he could learn from that. He couldn't get very far if he did nothing but mock and punish Seth. He'd have to work hard on his aftercare skills if he wanted to be half as good at domming as Roman was.

Most of all he'd really have to get over himself and try to be a decent person about it.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “I mean, what about our scene did you like?”

“Hm.” For the time being, that was all Seth was able to say. Dean looked at him through the rear view mirror and found him deep in thought, staring out the side window, his eyebrows in a furrow. Dean and Roman allowed him some minutes of silence, knowing that something so new might be difficult to articulate.

Finally he hesitantly threw out, “Well, I kinda liked all of what happened when I was just watching you guys. I mean. When I made a suggestion and Roman kinda shot me down. Uhh... I guess I like the little power struggle we had. And I felt kind of embarrassed for butting in like that without discussing it with you guys beforehand, but I liked being embarrassed...”

The two men in the front seats shot each other knowing looks.

“Imagine that for a second,” Dean commented. “Bratty little Seth Rollins... I think it suits him.”

Roman added, “That sounds pretty accurate to me. Dean's a good boy, but I'm not so sure about our Seth.”

“I'm a stubborn guy, to be sure, I don't think it'd be any different there,” he agreed. “And Roman, you also kinda... threatened to let Dean punish me. Kinda like that idea.” Seth chuckled softly to himself, perhaps out of shyness.

As the conversation went on, Seth became a little more comfortable and animated in describing what he might enjoy. Sensations were weighed against each other, various acts suggested and decided upon, nicknames eschewed for the sake of simplicity. In spite of the fact that they'd known each other for a few years, Dean was learning a whole lot about Seth through this conversation.

His little masochistic streak, his unexplored desire to be restrained and controlled by someone he trusted, the thrill he got from being humiliated.

All of this sounded good to Dean. Very good.

The morning wore on normally, considering the circumstances. The conversation drifted away to more typical subjects, and then died entirely as each of the men settled comfortably into silence. The radio grumbled quietly with a randomly chosen top 40 station. Dean hummed along and stared out the window at the passing scenery, now an endless series of pastures and fields. And, as was per usual, Seth drifted off into a nap.

Dean felt the need to speak up, now that Seth was asleep. He had far more trouble expressing himself around Seth for some reason. Maybe because they were a little bit more similar than they'd like to admit. But Roman was far easier to talk with.

“Hey, uhh...” he muttered. “Roman, I kinda wanted to... I mean.” He fidgeted in his seat and looked up at Roman from the corner of his gaze. “Thanks for not hating me, I guess.

“What?” Roman laughed with his eyebrow cocked. “What're you talking about?”

Dean growled, not out of anger, but because his throat was closing around the words he planned on saying. His muscles tensed all about his body, as if he would have to fight physically through his hesitance. Finally, following a long and frustrated sigh, he spoke.

His hands wrung about themselves in his lap. “You really didn't have to do anything with me. In fact, you could have told me to never talk about it again and I could have just forgotten about it. I was just afraid that... you'd think I was too fuckin' weird and then never speak to me again. I don't have a ton of friends, I never have, so... I try really hard to keep the ones that do stick around.”

He felt a hand lay itself on his shoulder gently, and found Roman with a concerned smile on his face.

“I get you, man,” Roman assured him. “It ain't easy admitting that kinda stuff. I'm actually glad you were honest with me. And even if I wasn't into it, I wouldn't just leave you high and dry. You and Seth are my best friends, no matter what. All right?”

Dean was never much for sentimentality. It made him itchy most of the time. But he allowed it, just this once. Put his own hand over Roman's and squeezed a bit.

Of course Seth would choose that moment to stir in the back seat. Dean jerked his hand away, more out of instinct than anything else. Roman let out a near-silent laugh through his nose and let his own hand fall back to the steering wheel as Seth groaned back into wakefulness.

“Mmgh,” he sighed through a long stretch. “How long was I out?”

“Hour and a half, maybe,” Roman informed him.

Seth removed the headphones from around his neck and set them on his lap. His thighs spread apart in an attempt to stretch them, as well, but soon snapped back together.

“Ooh,” he hissed. “Hey, when's the next rest stop, anyway?”

“Thirty-five miles out, last I saw. You want me to pull over?”

Seth grumbled and turned his gaze to the side window with the faintest red blooming across his cheeks. “Not here, damn. It's completely flat, no cover. And like I said last night, I'm not Dean. I actually possess shame.”

Ah. There it was.

Perfect.

Dean didn't even realize he was beaming so widely until Roman nudged him.

“Contain your ass, all right, Dean?” he intoned.

“Oh, I'm totally contained. No problem here. The question that really needs to be asked is... can Seth contain himself?”

He wasn't even looking back, but he could feel the heat of Seth's glare burning into the back of his head. It only made him smile more.

“Yeah, that's really fuckin' hilarious, Dean.” He crossed his legs and his arms to display his annoyance. Well, his arms, anyway.

“How bad are you?” Roman asked, at least partially out of concern.

“Not good.” His breath was measured but quick.

“Hm.” Roman scanned the landscape and nodded. “There's some trees up ahead if you can wait maybe ten, fifteen minutes.”

“Yeah, I can wait that long.”

Could he, though?

Dean unbuckled his seat belt and climbed into the back seat, depositing himself right next to a mildly suspicious Seth. Unable to hold back his grin, he put one arm around Seth's shoulders and started lightly running his fingers along his cheek.

“Ah. Hi,” Seth breathed, starting to melt a little bit under Dean's touch, but trying very hard to hide it. “Can I help you?”

His hand traced down to Seth's chest. “Well, I was thinking... no time like the present, right? Why don't we practice right here?”

Seth fidgeted and squeezed his thighs together with a wince. “Is this really the time?”

“You tell me.” Dean tried to channel Roman for a moment, muttering low into Seth's ear. “Now that you're a little desperate, maybe kind of... embarrassed? I think we can come up with something on the fly.”

Seth's face went almost entirely red as he began to consider it. He may not have noticed it, but his lower lip was caught under his front teeth, and he began fidgeting for an entirely different reason.

“We stop whenever you need to,” Dean assured him. “We already figured out our safety, I know where not to go with it... If you feel uncomfortable for even one second, just let me know and everything stops.”

The other one nodded slowly, entirely understanding. “Well. I mean. The thing is... Roman, is it cool with you?”

Roman, glancing back through the rear view mirror, shrugged. “Long as no fluids get on the seats. Insurance is under my name on this thing, all right?” He tapped the steering wheel and grinned back at his partners.

“Hear that?” Dean leaned even closer to Seth and rested his chin against his shoulder, close enough that his lips nearly touched Seth's ear. His cheek stubble rubbed against Seth's beard, causing a rather pleasing friction. “You'd better be good for me, Seth. You'd better not make trouble for me or Roman. I already owe you a little bit of punishment for last time, don't I? Hmm?”

A breath wavered out of Seth's lungs. Dean could practically feel him heating up all over his body as the blood rushed to all the right places. And he was right there with him.

But Seth's expression soon warmed into an impish grin.

“Yeah? Or what?”

Clearly he'd taken Dean's suggestion to heart. And he was already quite good at it.

His hand drifted underneath Seth's shirt and dug a few fingernails into his stomach. Just enough to make his threat obvious.

“There's an easy way and a hard way to do this, Seth,” Dean growled. His nails dragged against Seth's abs, drawing a small gasp from his partner. “Now, you can cooperate with me and make it easier for you... or you can do it the hard way. At which point I'll have to make you be good.”

“Hm? Make me?” Seth snickered and shifted his body, forcing Dean to lift his head from his shoulder. Brown eyes sparkling into Dean's, he retorted, “I'd like to see you try.”

Without any further warning, one big hand released its nails from Seth's stomach and planted itself lower, fingertips pressing lightly against his lower stomach. He could feel even from this gentle touch just how full Seth was – his bladder was taut against his skin, hard but yielding.

And at this mild contact, Seth sucked in a breath and attempted to squirm away. The seat belt across his lap prevented him from getting very far at all. That defiant attitude wasn't lasting through very much, was it?

As in most things, Seth had plenty of bark. But here, his bite wasn't there to back it up.

No. He'd put himself in this situation. And past the worried expression and the struggling, his arousal was burning deep in the core of him.

“What was that?” Dean asked as he leaned forward again to nibble Seth's earlobe. “I could have sworn you were talking back to me, Seth. You really want me to make you be good? You want me to play rough with you?” 

Seth let out a hissing gasp and then moaned as Dean's fingertips pressed harder into his pelvis. His thighs writhed together, his hands clenched into fists and paled his knuckles. 

“Answer me, Seth. You wanna be good for me?”

“Aaah,” Seth exhaled, his eyes shut tight in concentration. “Nngh, okay, I'm sorry--”

With his other hand Dean reached up and took a large handful of Seth's downy hair, pulling just enough to sting against his scalp. Following a pleasing groan of pain and desperation, Dean laughed.

“That isn't what I asked. Do you wanna be good for me or not?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, his right leg shaking on the ball of his foot. “Yes, I wanna be good, oh god... I can't... I can't hold...” 

Dean removed his hand from Seth's stomach, allowing his hands to dive into his crotch and hold it tight. After a few moments of gasping breath and tensing all over, Seth was able to relax just slightly. But his hands remained at his groin.

“I know you do, Seth,” his teammate moaned into his neck. He shifted to stroking his hair gently. “I know you do. But it's clear to me that you don't know how... so you have to listen to me and follow what I say. Got it?”

“Yeah...” Seth looked down at his own lap, blushing at his indignity. 

“Seth. Look at me in the eye when I'm talking to you.”

He obeyed immediately, his eyes full of worry but with the faintest tinge of secret pleasure. 

Dean patted Seth on the head. “That's a good little boy. Very good. Now, what I need you to do is just hold on for me, okay? Hold it for just a few more minutes.” He nodded at the window to their right, which revealed a landscape peppered sparsely with trees. “When the woods get thicker. Just hold it until then. Can you do that?”

Seth nodded hesitantly, chewing his lower lip. 

“Say it,” he insisted. “Tell me that you can be good.”

“I can be good,” he sighed urgently. “I promise. I can... hold it.”

“Good.”

For the next few minutes, Dean reveled in the small gasps and whines that escaped from Seth's lips, the fidgeting and wriggling in his seat. He kept his arm around his shoulders in an attempt to encourage him. He stroked Seth's quivering thigh with the other hand and murmured little approving words to him.

Finally, the road was surrounded by a heavily wooded area. Seth gazed up at his dominant with big, pleading eyes.

“Sir?” Dean spoke up to Roman. “Can we pull over, please? I need to take Seth out for a minute.”

His charge blushed even deeper somehow. Being taken out like an overexcited puppy? For a grown man, it was almost too shameful to even think about.

“Good manners,” Roman praised from the driver's seat. “Seth, you're lucky to have someone so kind to take care of you. Remember that.”

“Yes, Sir,” Seth agreed quietly as the car slowed to a stop on the side of the highway. He reached for his seat belt but found Dean's hand already occupying that space.

“I'll get that for you,” he commanded as he clicked the belt apart. As Seth started to stand up he laid a firm hand on his thigh. “Wait, now. I'll get the door. Just relax.”

Taking far longer than was necessary at all, Dean slid across the seat and opened the right side door. Casually, leisurely, he stepped in front of the stopped car and shot Roman a grin as he crossed to the other side. Roman was beaming with approval.

Finally, the left-side door was opened. Dean motioned for Seth to get up, which he did with as much haste as he could manage without losing control of himself. He seemed to be getting the idea, though, for Seth stood still and waited for more direction rather than running off into the woods by himself. One hand grasping the back of Seth's neck, Dean led him around the back of the car and down a shallow embankment. They trudged together a few yards away from the road, finding enough cover from the massive tree trunks that surrounded them. 

“Okay, this looks pretty safe,” Dean announced.

Seth slipped, though. At that statement he fumbled for the zipper in his jeans, only to find his wrists soon clamped under Dean's hands.

“Seth.”

Concern was all over his face as he panted lightly, sweat beading at his forehead.

Dean's next statement boiled deviously behind his teeth. “I did tell you that I owed you some discipline, didn't I?”

He watched as Seth's hands shook and clenched, his knees go weak, his jaw fall open.

“D-Dean, I can't... I can't hold it anymore...” he whimpered.

“You have to learn that being good means you take your punishment without complaining. Now, hands behind your back.”

“But--”

A slap landed on Seth's backside, making him cry out not only in pain, but in his slipping control of his bladder. Breathing heavily, he clasped his trembling hands together against his lower back.

Seth bounced on his feet and moaned quietly as he stood obedient in front of Dean. His breathing was becoming faster with every moment, his thighs crushing together, his hands wringing around themselves behind his back.

All of a sudden, Seth gasped out a curse under his breath, a defeated whine.

And before anything else could occur, Dean reached forward and undid Seth's jeans as quickly as he could, reaching inside his boxers and pulling his cock out into the open. By the time it was in his hand, it was already releasing at full blast. From the thick and uncontrolled stream, a puddle began bubbling into the dirt below with a muffled splatter.

Seth drew in a deep breath and sighed with absolute pleasure and relief. His hands still behind his back, he allowed Dean to hold him as all of his fluids spilled out from him.

“Good boy, Seth,” Dean whispered as he smiled at the force and ease of Seth's release. “I'm so proud of you. You held all of that in.”

The brunet gazed down at his spraying cock with a soft, relieved smile on his face. He relaxed against Dean's larger frame, all of the tension in his body cascading forth onto the ground.

“Ohhh, god,” he sighed over the noise of liquid falling. “That... feels so damn good...”

“I'll bet it does,” Dean agreed, resting his head against Seth's. He'd been growing more and more aroused throughout the entire experience, but by now he was throbbing. Yet he felt no need to touch himself at this time. It was enough to watch Seth unraveling against him.

Their giant egos, their many disagreements, whatever tension that normally twisted between them. All of that soaked into the earth in that moment.

Eventually, after what seemed like minutes, Seth trickled out what small amount of liquid still remained inside him. Dean shook off the extra drops from the tip of Seth's cock and returned it to the inside of his boxers.

They were damp on the front. He peered over and found that a small wet spot was clear at the crotch of Seth's jeans. Yet the one wearing them didn't even realize it until Dean had already zipped them shut and rubbed against it with his palm.

Seth's hands immediately shot up to cover his face, which was beet red. “Oh god...”

“You leaked a little bit,” his dominant pointed out. “But it's okay, it's proof of how hard you tried. Besides, that'll dry in like a half hour. No harm done.”

Seth let his hands fall and nodded, still unable to look at Dean. But he allowed himself to be led back to the car.

After the both of them sat down in the back seat and buckled themselves in, Dean threw out, almost casually, “Scene.”

“Holy fuck,” Seth expelled through a shuddering laugh. His eyes became hidden by his hands again, but his huge, gap-toothed smile was evident. With a huge sigh he collapsed to the side against Dean and giggled softly to himself, already somehow completely over having nearly wet himself entirely.

“Good?” Dean asked, even if it was already clear that it was.

“Mm-hm.” He buried his burning hot face into Dean's neck.

Roman started the car again. “Seth, you realize what this means, don't you?”

“What?” The question floated from him effortlessly.

“Well. Dean's my sub, and if you're his sub...”

Dean finished for him. “You're the subbiest sub that ever subbed.”

Seth paused, then groaned. “God dammit. Those fucking tumblr girls were right.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd pet play is now a thing here too. Yyyyup. Slut Puppy gettin' housebroken tonight.

“You did a good job, man,” Roman said while patting Dean on the shoulder.

Dean responded with a confused grunt. The two of them were browsing the library of snacks in a convenience store just off of the highway. Seth, however, waited in the rental car for them. His jeans had yet to dry completely.

“I mean with Seth,” the tattooed one clarified, lowering the volume of his voice. “You were awesome, especially for your first try. You're kind of a natural at both sides of this, man.”

“Oh. Thank you.” He gazed intently at the packets of beef jerky with a subtle grin on his face.

Roman pretended to read the ingredients of an orange packet of something-or-other. “How about this – next time we end up in two rooms, I'll take one by myself. Then you two can have some alone time. I think you're absolutely ready for it.”

“'Preciate it. But I think that's kinda his decision,” Dean rumbled under his breath. “I'm up for it if he is. I will need to borrow something from you, though...”

As expected, Seth was, indeed, up for it.

And they didn't have to wait very long for this opportunity. It was just a week from that day, the very next leg of the tour, where the three men ended up at a hotel in the northeastern territories. They were assigned to two rooms with one bed each, and as such Roman made himself scarce just following their late dinner.

It was rather deep into the night by the time their luggage was situated in the room. Dean had been thrumming with anticipation before they'd even allowed the door to shut behind him. But he didn't want to rush these things. Especially since Seth was a little newer to the whole thing than he was.

Seth seemed to read the mood, however. He pulled off his shirt just minutes after they entered the room, and was unzipping his jeans when Dean started his approach.

“Like you read my mind, Seth.” Before Seth could pull his jeans off, Dean rested his hands on Seth's hips and slowly moved them downward. And he held with a tight grip as Seth stepped out of his pants, which left him in only a very small set of briefs-style compression underwear.

“Wow,” Dean laughed, impressed. He gently laid a hand on Seth's blushing cheek, enjoying the scratch of beard against his palm. “Haven't seen you dressed like this for a few years.”

“I can tell you missed this look,” Seth grinned back. “Girls like the SWAT gear, but... I kinda miss seeing you in those little black trunks, too.”

“Ha! I knew it,” Dean patted Seth on the head and walked over to his luggage. “All that time in FCW, I knew you were staring at my ass in the locker room.”

“What ass?”

Oh. So he was going to be like that tonight.

“Careful, Seth.” He dug through his clothes to the bottom of his suitcase. “Remember who's calling the shots here. You don't wanna make any trouble for me, do you?” Now having found what he was looking for, he turned and hid the item behind his back.

Seth shrugged, his casual defiance coming through in his easy smile. “Isn't it more fun that way, though?”

“Maybe for me.” Dean came up on Seth rather quickly and revealed what he'd been hiding: the bright red leash and collar that Roman had bought for him. “But you might regret not doing this the easy way tonight. You're quite the little brat, sometimes. It's time I taught you some manners... some new tricks, maybe?”

Seth lifted his head to allow easier access as Dean fastened the collar around his neck.

The smaller one traced his fingers against the leather and stopped at the cool, smooth metal of the name tag. He read it, and his rebellious little smirk only grew wider.

“Doesn't this collar belong to you? It's got your name on it.”

A sinister chuckle bubbled up from Dean's lungs and chilled the air between him and Seth.

“Actually, that means you belong to me. Now. Sit.”

With that, he pushed Seth's shoulders downward, forcing him to his knees. His smile was fading into a nervous frown, but the spark in his eyes spoke volumes. This was good – this was really doing it for the both of them. Dean could see the exact moment Seth began to harden in his briefs. And it was the same moment his own cock was beginning to strain against his jeans. 

Dean tugged the collar to make sure Seth was looking him straight in the eye. “It's clear to me that you're a sick little puppy... And there's nothing wrong with that. You and I are similar in that way. But you haven't been very good, have you? Haven't had the chance to be properly trained. I can't let that go, little buddy. My puppy has to be obedient. He has to listen to me, be gentle with his master, do as he's told. Got it?”

Seth's eyebrows were furrowed together. His cheeks spoke of embarrassment of being in such a position. The lower lip under his front teeth told of his aching arousal. And his hands, wringing together in his lap, exclaimed the simultaneous conflict and resonance of these two emotions.

“Answer me, Seth. Speak,” Dean commanded.

“I got it,” he grumbled at the floor.

“Look at me. Eyes up.”

With the momentary hesitation of shame, he followed his direction. The larger one felt his heart swell at the sight of this. This frustrated little slut of a man on his knees in front of him, gazing up at him with those wide, gorgeous, fearful brown eyes. His stiffening crotch bulge between his quivering thighs. The overwhelming humiliation he was about to put him through.

It seemed a good time to drop the act for just a moment.

“If it ever gets too much, just say the word. Nothing else happens. Okay?”

Seth's smile switched back on. “Okay.”

“Even if you're not sure, you can say it. No judgment. No punishment for stopping. That's what it's there for.”

“I'm good, I promise!” Seth laughed, leaning forward to nudge Dean's thigh with his cheek.

He gave Seth another gentle pat on the head and took the time to stroke his fluffy hair. “Then you better get ready. Time to train this slutty little pup of mine.”

Dean settled his hand on the back of Seth's head, softly running his fingers through his locks. And his submissive was melting under his touch, his eyes fluttering shut and his hands settling on the floor between his knees. The both of them were grinning, their energies beginning to resonate, the warmth rising and breaths quickening.

And they'd barely even begun yet.

“Y'like that, huh?” Dean rumbled, scratching behind Seth's ear. “Feel good?”

“Mmh.” Seth gave a little moan but seemed otherwise a little bit confused. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped short and looked up at his master.

“It's okay, you can answer,” he assured. “I asked you a question, so I want you to answer.”

“It's... really nice,” Seth finally said. “Feels really good.”

“Good.” Dean tugged at the leash, just enough to get his attention. “Seth, I know you wanna be a good boy for me and Roman. Don't you?”

He nodded, rubbing his cheek against Dean's outstretched hand.

“That's good... I'm glad. But it's hard if you don't have somebody to train you, huh? It's okay, though. I can teach you a few things.” He nodded his head to the side. “Come on, come with me.”

He almost stood up, but only had to receive a stern glance before he settled back down to the floor. His cheeks burning, he nodded to show he was comprehending. And so Seth, crawling on the floor, followed close behind Dean as he slowly walked him across the room over to the bed. 

Dean sat down at the edge of the bed and swung his legs up and over the covers. He then leaned his back against the headboard and patted the space next to him.

“Up.”

With a bit of an annoyed sigh, Seth clambered onto the bed, settled next to Dean on his hands and knees, and waited for his next direction.

Making the accompanying hand gesture, Dean commanded, “Lie down.”

In response, his pet lay prone on his stomach on top of the mattress. But he still seemed a little bit frustrated. He glared up at Dean from below, his thighs fidgeting beneath him.

“What's wrong, boy?” Dean cooed, unable to contain the smirk on his lips. He once more gave Seth a pat on the head. “You're being so good right now. I want my boy to be happy... Speak, Seth.”

“N-Nothing,” Seth muttered. “Just... nothing.”

“If you say so... Now... Let's try a new one.”

Dean unlocked the leash from Seth's collar, and then with a casual flick of his wrist, tossed it across the room.

“Fetch.”

Seth glanced over at the leash on the floor, and then turned his glare back to Dean. “You threw it!” he barked. “You go get it, for fuck's sake.”

Dean snatched Seth by the hair and pulled him forward, eliciting a yelp and a pained groan from him. Without warning he laid his palm hard against Seth's backside. The crack of his hand against flesh was followed immediately by a whine of pain and regret.

“You know what 'fetch' means, don't you, Seth?”

The big man let go of his hair and then grasped the back of the collar, pulling it up so Seth was looking straight at him. The light pressure on his throat forced his tongue out of his mouth and a panting breath from his lungs.

“Hm? You heard me. I know you did.” Dean let go of the collar and snapped his fingers. “Go get it, boy. Fetch.”

His head hanging low in shame, Seth whimpered in apology and slunk off of the bed. He crawled as quickly as he could across the carpet and stopped once he reached the item he was looking for. He began reaching out to pick it up before he heard a another snap of fingers behind him.

Dean shook his head, chewing on a fingernail. “You know that's not how it's done. Do it right, or you'll really get it.”

Seth growled. Low in his throat, clearly in Dean's direction. Growled.

“Seeeth...” warned his master, who threatened to get up from the bed. All he had to do was threaten, for Seth cowered in response and gave a sigh of resignation.

His mouth fell open, his head leaned down, and he took the leash between his teeth. Dean's smile returned as Seth crawled back to the bed, once more climbed up onto it, and stopped next to him. The leash was still clamped between his angrily gritted teeth as he stared up at his master.

“All right, give it here, boy,” Dean coaxed as he held his hand just under Seth's chin, palm up and waiting.

Seth practically spat out the leash into Dean's hand, but it was good enough. He was, technically, following orders.

“Ohh, good boy,” he praised as he gave Seth a light scratch on his chin. “Was that so hard? Now, roll over. I think you deserve a belly rub for that.”

He hesitated for a few moments, but slowly and carefully rolled over onto his back, his knees bent and his hands clenched into fists and resting on his upper chest. The expression on his face seemed not so much annoyed anymore, but... anxious? Worried?

Dean paused for a moment, locked eyes with Seth, raised his eyebrows and gave a single questioning nod.

Seth nodded back. 

The air cleared a bit, Dean placed his hand on Seth's stomach and stroked him gently.

“There, now, isn't that a nice pup? Isn't it so much easier to be good for me?”

“Yeah...” His voice came out in a sigh, but with the faintest hint of a whine. Seth's thighs slowly moved towards each other and subtly pressed together. As if he were trying to do it in a way that Dean wouldn't notice.

Of course he noticed. He always did.

“Now, Seth, I can tell something's wrong. You'd better tell me right now, or you'll get it even worse than before.”

His cheeks were red once more as he pouted at the ceiling. He squirmed in place again and looked away.

With yet another sigh, Seth mumbled, “I... have to... go.”

“Ohhh, so that's what's bugging you,” Dean laughed. His hand traced downward and settled flat against Seth's lower stomach, just hovering over his bladder. And all the fidgeting that Seth was doing under his hand was making his cock strain against the fabric of his jeans. Clearly, his hand wasn't helping.

Neither would this.

“You should have just told you me you wanted outside, buddy.”

“Fucking what?”

Dean had to admit, it sounded a little ridiculous at this point. But he gestured toward the balcony just outside their room. Rather than a grate or a fence, it was a concrete wall that separated the balcony from the rest of the world. Not only that, but their room was on the top floor of the hotel. Nothing would bear witness to this act except a large potted plant.

“Seth,” he leaned down next to him to whisper right into his ear. “We don't want a mess inside, do we? Means I gotta take you out. All right?”

He could feel the heat of Seth's blushing cheeks on his own face by then. He heard a gulp, and then a resigned and quiet, “All right.”

The leash was once more attached to the collar, and Dean stood and waited for Seth to follow. For his pet, it must have seemed like a mile to the back door of the hotel room. But it was only moments before the two of them were already in the cool night air.

Dean could feel the goosebumps raised on his own skin, and saw Seth shivering as well.

“Little chilly out here, huh?”

Seth, still in the crawling position, nodded, thighs ever fidgeting.

It must have been a little more difficult to hold it in while in that position...

Dean tried and failed to contain his smile. “Better make it quick then, right?”

Seth growled again. But Dean let it go this time. He'd have been far more grumpy about a situation like this. In truth, Seth was handling it like a champ.

Staring daggers into the ground, Seth pulled his dick out of his briefs and straightened up so that he was resting on his knees.

And again, he received a scolding, in the form of a click of a tongue and a glare.

“What exactly do you want me to do here--?!” he began to exclaim... before he realized what he was being told to do. “Oh. God.” He covered his face in his hands.

Dean's voice dropped to that low growl that he knew would get his blood flowing. “Come on, Seth. Sooner you get it over with, sooner we get back inside. I'll give you a treat if you go... Would you like that, huh? Treat for my good boy?”

Panting heavily, Seth's hands dropped to the ground. He gulped again, looked up to Dean for reassurance, and bit his lower lip.

“You can do it... I know you can.” Dean rested his hand on Seth's head and smiled warmly.

Following a near-silent whimper, Seth lifted his leg and rested it against the rim of the plant's clay vessel, shifting the other one to leave them spread wide. Seemingly outside of his control, his hand raised up to cover his mouth, and his eyes squeezed shut. If it were possible, his cheeks grew even redder as his back muscles relaxed, and it began in just a silent trickle on the ground.

Of course, once it began, Seth wouldn't have been able to stop it if he tried. Not in that position. 

The trickle grew to a fully-fledged stream in just moments, splattering loudly among the silence between them. It ran in torrents down the side of the potted plant, pooling in the saucer dish at the base. Dean guessed he'd been holding it for a little while – not that he could hold much in the first place. But his release was quite impressive in volume.

Seth was chewing on his knuckle, his eyes still firmly shut, his eyebrows worried together. Moments after he began, he exhaled a shaky moan. That sound, along with the noise of water falling against the vessel, connected directly to Dean's cock. He watched with pleasure and interest as Seth relieved himself fully, in his humiliating position, his urine even starting to spill out of the base as the final trickles dripped onto the ground.

A few drops fell into the small puddle on the concrete. 

Without looking at Dean, Seth lowered his leg and crawled back to his master.

He led his pet back inside and slid the glass door closed. And then Dean dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around Seth's shoulders, completely enveloping his burning face into his neck.

“Good boy,” he murmured into his ear while petting the back of his head. “I'm so proud of you... So fucking proud. You're such a good boy, Seth. So good.”

Moments later, he added, “Scene.”

Seth let out the longest sigh Dean had ever heard. And then a yelp of surprise as Dean scooped him into his arms in a bridal-style carry and brought him over to the bed. He lay him down gently and collapsed next to him.

Without any further preparation, Dean unzipped himself and pulled out his throbbing member. In one hand he stroked himself, and with the other he grasped his fingers around Seth's cock and began rubbing him to full hardness.

“Ohh my god,” Dean chuckled through a deep sigh. “That was amazing, Seth. God. Perfect. You did so well.”

Seth laughed quietly in reply, his breath hitching from arousal. “Would you believe that... wasn't the first time I'd done something like that?”

Dean turned his head, and they smiled at each other.

“Do tell.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra ship, extra bang for yer non-existent buck. Enjoy these ficlets within a fic, and more Tyler Black/Jimmy Jacobs as requested.

Dean was languidly stroking both himself and Seth, enough to feel good but not quite enough to build up to orgasm. He wanted this to last – he could have been ready to burst at any moment, but apparently there was an interesting story that he most definitely wanted to hear.

Seth explained through his sighing breath, “Yeah, I... I've done some of the, uh... Watersports or whatever you call it.” His cheeks burned visibly at the term. 

His partner let out a knowing chuckle as several things clicked together in his memories. “That explains why you're so shy about it. You were just embarrassed at how much it turned you on, huh?”

A sheepish nod confirmed it. Seth went on, rolling his hips into Dean's hand. “Used to have this thing with Jimmy Jacobs, back when I was with Ring of Honor. He got me to do some pretty weird stuff...”

“One, I'm not at all surprised that you and Jacobs fucked on the regular. Two, I'm especially not surprised that he got you into the freaky stuff.”

“Oh, like you wouldn't fuck Jimmy Jacobs if you had the chance.”

Dean's tongue worked its way out between his teeth. “I do have a bit of a thing for little emo-lookin' twinks, don't I? ”

Seth breathed out a half-moan, half-scoff. “Come on, man. Punk, not emo.”

“Whatever you call it. You're still my twinky little slut puppy, aren't you?” He leaned over, nuzzled his cheek into Seth's, their skin trading warmth with each other. “So. Speak.”

~

Tyler Black was fucking exhausted. That is, exhausted from fucking. Either/or.

The man panting beside him, stuck to the sheets with sweat, draped himself over Tyler's chest, scraping his beard stubble against his damp skin - there was really no other word that described him better than “gorgeous”. Though square in jaw and strong in nose, he possessed an undeniable and androgynous beauty. Much of it came from his eyes, which burned with a wild hazel glint, that he wasn't shy about emphasizing with a healthy dose of eyeliner. At this time, they were closed, contented, and shaded by a shock of red-dyed bangs. His body, though short and somewhat stocky, was fit, smooth, and to Tyler, absolutely lovely to behold. And, as usual, he ornamented himself with a silver stud through each nipple.

And lovely to have all over him... to a point.

Jimmy Jacobs was known by all of his sexual partners to be insatiable. He could go all night if he chose to, and he often did, if he really liked the person he was sharing himself with. Tyler wanted to believe he had the stamina to keep up with anyone at just about anything, but even he couldn't last as many rounds as Jimmy.

So, when Jimmy's pink-painted fingernails drifted down Tyler's abs and began raising goosebumps from his stomach to the dent in his hip, Tyler let out a groan and rolled over. Jimmy slid off of him, but remained in hot pursuit. He scrambled towards his prize and wrapped his arms about Tyler's shoulders, and his legs around his waist.

“Fuck's sake, Jimmy, I'm tired.” Tyler attempted to squirm away, but Jimmy was not just a gorgeous example of a human being – he was a wrestler. His grip could not be broken so easily.

“Hey, hey, I'm giving you a break, babe,” he snickered in reply. “I just want you to stay here and cuddle.”

Tyler tried to pry Jimmy's hands away from him, but they were locked together against his chest. “Like hell. You want me to stay here and fuck you again.”

“Well yeah... after the cuddling.”

Following a deep sigh and one more valiant wriggle, Tyler groaned and went limp on the mattress. “Dammit, will you just lemme go?”

“Nope.”

“I need to get up.”

“But I'll miss you!” He could practically hear Jimmy batting his eyelashes in feigned innocence.

It would have been preferable to avoid this kind of talk – most people would rather not hear it. But there wasn't much of a choice at this point. Not with somebody even more stubborn than Tyler himself.

“I have to piss,” Tyler grumbled. He'd normally take care of that within minutes after orgasm, but Jimmy had been determined to keep him going as long as possible. As a result, he was now aching for another kind of release. It didn't help that he'd often have trouble holding it throughout his life. His bladder was far smaller than he would have liked, which resulted in some humiliating situations. He certainly wasn't about to embarrass himself so thoroughly, not in front of his boyfriend.

To his mild surprise, Jimmy relinquished his grasp. Though he supposed no one would want to deal with that sort of clean-up, especially this late at night. Tyler rolled out of the bed and stood on his two shaking, jellied legs. He considered slipping on a pair of boxers or a shirt, but even that seemed like too much of a bother. Following his trip to the bathroom, he planned on collapsing into bed and sleeping, no matter what Jimmy wanted to do to him next.

He stumbled across the carpet over to the bathroom, flipping the light on as he walked through the door. Though the sudden glare burned his eyes, he managed to find the toilet from memory alone. 

Tyler ran a thumb across the slit at the end of his member, sending a tingle through it that went straight up his spine. Being naked and standing on cold tile didn't help with his case of the shivers. A shaky breath huffing out from his chest, he made an attempt to relax long enough to let go.

And he was almost there. Relief so tantalizingly in his grasp, just a few drips beginning to escape, his breath waiting behind his teeth.

Which is when he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching behind him.

Well, that explained why it was still so cold. In his fatigue he'd forgotten to shut the door behind him.

“Fuck, sorry!” Tyler blurted. His hands leaped to cover his crotch, for whatever reason. His boyfriend had seen it countless times, but not... in this context.

“For what?” laughed Jimmy as he made his approach. Unlike Tyler, he'd actually found the wherewithal to slip on a tight pair of striped briefs.

“I-I dunno,” he started. Then, his hands dropped to his sides. “Hey wait, you should be the one apologizing, you little twerp!”

“S'my bathroom, dumbass. I own it. Just like I own this.” Jimmy laid his hand against Tyler's ass and squeezed.

“I don't care if it's your bathroom, I'm trying to use it!” He turned towards the toilet once more, expecting Jimmy to finally give him a moment's peace.

Why the fuck would he ever expect that?

Jimmy stood shoulder to shoulder with his boyfriend just a second later. Tyler sighed.

“What, did you wanna watch me piss, you goddamn pervert?”

“Nope.”

Tyler was about to ask, but his question died in his throat as Jimmy pulled his own uncut dick out from his briefs.

He shot a smudged wink at Tyler, holding himself with both hands and shrugging. “I thought you had a pretty good idea. Thought I might join you.”

There were a lot of choices Tyler could have made in this situation. The wisest one, he imagined, would be to flick Jimmy in the forehead and just walk away. But he was practically leaking at that moment, and with relief just inches away, his baser instincts took over.

Pointedly looking away from Jimmy and towards the water below, Tyler aimed himself and tried to relax. It wasn't as easy as he expected. Though he was forced into it on a daily basis, he never truly got used to going in front of anyone else. He attempted to clear his mind and pretend he was, in fact, alone.  
Even though Jimmy was breathing rather loudly next to him. Even though he was currently staring down at Jimmy's hands carefully pulling back his foreskin.

Even though he could feel his boyfriend's eyes staring straight at the cock currently nestled between his thumb and forefinger.

And of course the little twerp started before him. Following the sound of a relaxed sigh, Tyler's face went red as he watched a golden stream fall from Jimmy's body into the toilet. One of his hands moved from his crotch to his lower stomach, as if to hold his bladder through the process. His shoulders slumped and his eyes fluttered shut with relief.

What was it with Tyler and people who lacked any shame? He made a note to himself to try and avoid men like that in the future.

Yet, watching the little smile appear on Jimmy's lips, witnessing his streaming cock, hearing him groan happily, it was... kinda... sorta...

Hot?

Tyler's cheeks were burning even warmer at the word that had branded itself into his mind. Hot. Watching his boyfriend piss was hot, somehow. He quickly shook his head of the thought. Justified that it was kind of almost like sex because hey, he was releasing something from his dick and making similar noises.

That was all.

Right?

He realized how long he'd been staring at Jimmy's face. And how his own cock was leaking with some sort of jealousy, dripping slowly and steadily. 

Well, no point in wasting his chance. If he thought about it too much, that frustrating block would appear from his mind into his bladder and stop him entirely. And so, he flexed the necessary muscles and turned the leak into a deluge.

“Ohh, there ya go,” Jimmy exhaled as their relief splashed together, making a rather tremendous amount of noise. “There's a good boy, huh?”

“I'm not a fucking dog, Jimmy,” he grumbled, biting his lip with embarrassment. But the praise was oddly nice. And he almost sorta kinda liked being watched like this...

This was confusing. In kind of a good way, but he was absolutely not ready to even think about it. He shut his eyes tight and focused on relieving himself as quickly as possible. The stream flowing from him grew thicker with the effort of his muscles, splashing even louder. 

He heard a snicker from beside him. “Really had to go, huh? Not really surprised, though... You take more piss breaks than any other guy I know.”

Tyler didn't feel like justifying that statement with an answer. He remained resolutely silent until he was finally empty, shaking himself off. Jimmy seemed to finish at nearly the same time, letting out a pleased sigh.

Tyler sighed too, happy that this ordeal was finally over. Reaching forward to press the flushing mechanism, he suddenly jumped sideways as he felt a hot wetness splash onto his thigh. His head snapped towards Jimmy, who already had his dick back in his briefs and a devilish smirk on his face.

“Wasn't finished yet, Tyler.”

His entire head felt like it was on fire. From anger, possibly, or... from how filthy it was. Horrible. Dirty.

H... hot.

“Oh,” Jimmy nodded downward. “Look who's hard again.”

Fuck. One more round couldn't hurt, he supposed...

~

Of course it would come up again. Jimmy never forgot anything that embarrassed or aroused Tyler. Preferably both at once. But Jimmy always chose his strategies carefully. He had to. Tyler was naturally suspicious at this point, knowing Jimmy far too well.

And so as they returned from the bar one night, the both of them tripping over each other into Tyler's apartment, the plan had already been set without Tyler being any the wiser.

The door shut and locked, keys and shoes abandoned to parts unknown, Jimmy took Tyler's hand and pulled him close. A dreamy grin spread across Tyler's face. He might have been tipsy – well, more than tipsy – but he could catch a hint. His free hand planted itself on Jimmy's cheek, and he leaned down to lay a sloppy kiss against his lips.

Jimmy let out a giggle into Tyler's mouth, wiping the stray saliva from his lips as they detached. “Come with me this way, babe,” he murmured. Tugging Tyler's arm behind him, Jimmy turned in the opposite direction and led his boyfriend away from the front landing. 

“Where we goin'?” Tyler slurred a bit, but was nonetheless interested in whatever might occur.

They made their way slowly from the entrance to the hallway. “Had a lot to drink tonight, huh, Tyler?”

“Hehe, yeah,” the taller one snickered in response. “I had a bunch... Like... three? Maybe. Maybe three.”

“Three?” Jimmy couldn't help but laugh as he turned the doorknob leading to the bathroom. “That's not that much.”

“Shhhut up.” He was still oblivious to Jimmy's plan, pouting at the implication that he couldn't hold his liquor. “They were big drinks, okay? With like... couple shots each, you know. That's a lot.”

Jimmy flicked on the light switch, pulling Tyler inside. “All right, hon, you had a lot. Good for you.”

“Thank you.” He sounded entirely too serious about that, which Jimmy found entirely too amusing.

Suppressing another laugh, Jimmy let go of Tyler's hand and began stripping off his jacket and shirt. Tyler watched with interest as Jimmy tossed his clothing into the corner before unzipping his jeans. After just a bit too much time, Tyler realized what was happening and thought it best to start taking off his own clothes.

Jimmy was naked by the time Tyler had his shirt off, kicking his pants and underwear away from him and taking the garment from Tyler's hands.

“This is enough,” Jimmy assured him. Dropping the shirt to the floor, he laid his hands on Tyler's chest and pressed his lips against the side of his neck. Tyler let out a moan followed by a giggle, Jimmy's stubble tickling against his sensitive skin. 

Tyler let his hands wander about Jimmy's warm, bare body. He felt as goosebumps began to rise all over his skin, likely from his touch and from the cold of the floor.

“You cold?” Tyler was actually rather concerned. Sure, Jimmy was the one who took his own clothes off. But he didn't want his boyfriend to be uncomfortable.

“Maybe a little bit...” 

To Tyler's confusion, Jimmy drifted away from him. He stepped backwards until he reached the bathtub, wherein he stepped over the side and got down on his knees against the cold bottom.

“Ohh,” Tyler nodded. “Yeah. We could take a bath, that sounds nice.” With that, he began undoing the fastenings on his jeans.

“Sure, Tyler. Afterwards.”

“After what?” He squinted at Jimmy, his hands lingering on the hem of his pants.

“You gotta piss first, right?” 

Tyler blushed. Sure, he did. Even though he went before they left the bar. But he didn't exactly appreciate being reminded of how little he could hold, though. Without even replying, he sighed and turned towards the toilet.

“No, not there.”

“Huh?”

Jimmy ran his fingers lightly across his own chest, an enigmatic smirk on his face.

“Right here, babe.”

Tyler went a bit dizzy at that moment. Somehow he knew this would come back to haunt him... but he didn't expect it to be so soon. Not that the thought of it disgusted him. In that level of inebriation, his higher brain functions were still accessible, but his shame was almost non-existent. At least by comparison to sober-Tyler.

His bladder was quite full. Not bursting yet, but his need was fairly urgent. It wouldn't be that difficult, even though he'd never – geez – pissed on anyone before. Well. Not on purpose. But Jimmy had at least seen him go. The tip of his dick was tingling already. The pressure in his lower stomach all but demanded that he follow Jimmy's direction.

He didn't bother to question it further.

Jimmy wanted this. Tyler himself wanted this. But most of all his bladder wanted to empty.

He stepped over to the bathtub, standing over a beaming Jimmy Jacobs. Tyler gazed down at him, his eyelids drooping with this odd lust he'd recently discovered. His cheeks warm and red, he unbuttoned his boxers with perhaps more effort than it should have taken. He freed his limp cock and held it gently in one hand while his other hand drifted down to anxiously squeeze the top of his thigh.

Tyler's eyes closed. The buzz in his blood quieted to a low hum as he tried to keep his breathing even and deep. The buildup of fluid in his body seemed to slosh forward, sending a jolt through his already nervous heart. He chewed on his bottom lip, struggling to let his muscles loosen up.

“That's it, baby,” Jimmy moaned, drawing his tongue over his lips. “I know you can do it. Just let go.”

And so he did.

“Ohh, fuck,” Tyler groaned, an absolute flood rushing out of him. The pitter-patter of liquid against skin echoed throughout the bathroom, as did the aroused little gasp that escaped from Jimmy's throat. And just a moment later, the heavy splatter of droplets hitting the bottom of the bathtub.

As embarrassed as Tyler was, as hot as his ears were burning, he couldn't help but open his eyes.

Jimmy was already soaked through, his bare skin shining with the numerous rivulets that were falling down his chest. His urine flowed down over his stomach and to his thighs, running into the dents in his hips and tickling against his crotch. Relief tingled up Tyler's spine as he watched his boyfriend moan underneath his stream, Jimmy's whole body giving a twitch as his cock began to harden.

“Oh god yes,” Jimmy whimpered as he slid his palms against his nipples. “You're so warm, Tyler.”

Tyler tried to speak, but found his voice utterly useless at that point. All he could muster was a groan of relief. And so, he made an attempt to speak through his actions.

Still releasing his fluids, he stepped forward, laying his free hand on the top of Jimmy's head. He stroked the scruff of his hair, smiling down at him. His hand drifted lower to touch his cheek, to lightly stroke his lips, to rest on his shoulder.

As he pushed the final jets out, which landed against Jimmy's crotch, Tyler leaned down to place a loving kiss onto his boyfriend's forehead.

The smell of himself lingering in the air, the both of them let out a sigh at nearly the same time. Tyler got down on his knees as well and wrapped his arms about Jimmy's shoulders, nuzzling his lips into his neck.

“Well,” Jimmy breathed into Tyler's ear. “My shower's done... your turn, babe.”

~

“Holy fuck.”

The words hissed out from Dean's gritted teeth as he shuddered under his own hand. He was pumping hard by now, the speed and intensity steadily increasing throughout Seth's narrative. Seth himself was biting his knuckle and squeezing one of his nipples as Dean got him off, too.

The thought of those two gorgeous little twinks doing such filthy things to each other was enough to push Dean over the edge. But having Seth whining with pleasure right next to him at his own hand, having deigned to act as his pet earlier...

“You gotta tell me more of those stories sometime,” he huffed with a smile.

“Dean,” Seth whimpered from behind his hand. “Fuck, I'm so close... God damn...”

Even closer than he thought, apparently. Seth's hips bucked upwards, thrusting into Dean's hand, and his whines reached a fever pitch just seconds after he'd spoken. His cock twitched inside Dean's fingers, pulsed hard, and loosed itself against his own stomach.

As if the story wasn't enough.

The sight of Seth's orgasm was far too much for him. He exploded into his hand, pleasure dripping from his fingers, a tense grunt flying out from between his lips. Panting with each spasm of his body, his thighs twitching with intensity, Dean squeezed himself and Seth one last time before he went limp against the mattress.

His head was swimming with joy. He released both of their members and laid his hands against his stomach to finally take a bit of a rest. But he was soon forced to move them.

Seth draped himself over Dean's chest, the stickiness on his stomach mixing with his partner's sweat. Dean looked down and smiled at this intimacy. Sure they'd hugged plenty of times, but he'd never had Seth clinging to him like this.

Dean reached down and laced his hands in Seth's.

“Good boy.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh. What fucking month is it? Erm. Also, I'm so fucking sorry, Jimmy Jacobs.

“Yo, what's our next town again?” Dean was lounging in the backseat of the SUV, his long legs stretched and spread as far as he could comfortably muster. He thought it made his crotch look _great_ , tantalizing, extremely touchable to the point where he was insulted that no one jumped into the backseat to fuck him immediately.

“That'd be Grand Rapids,” came the reply from Roman, leaning against the window in the front passenger's seat. “Try to keep up, Dean. You're lucky you got our asses dragging you across this country.”

“Hey, you're lucky I keep things interesting around here.” Dean tossed an empty water bottle against the back of Roman's seat and laughed at the little thumping sound it made.

“Speaking of interesting,” Seth piped up, having remained fairly quiet as he drove for the past few minutes. “Jimmy's gonna be in town while we're rolling through. We could grab some drinks or dinner or something.”

“We could fuck him.” Seth burst out laughing, but Dean sounded far too excited to be joking. “Hell, let's let 'im in on our game. I know he loves that kinda kinky shit.”

“With your history?” Seth cackled loudly. “You two'll tear each other apart.”

“Exactly.” He ran his tongue along his teeth, just imagining how delicious Jimmy's moans would sound when he pulled his hair. The boy made such pretty noises when he was getting hurt, Dean could barely fathom how he'd sound if he was feeling good.

Shaking his head, Seth mumbled, “I have a feeling he's done kinkier stuff.”

“You boys mind if I sit this one out?” Roman was staring out the window. “I'm okay with you guys branching out, but I don't know Jimbo as well as you guys do.”

“Well clearly you don't, otherwise you wouldn't be calling him 'Jimbo',” Seth pointed out. His voice just _sounded_ like he was rolling his eyes at Roman.

“I dunno, I might start calling 'im that to piss him off.” Dean chuckled at the thought of his pretty little face twitching subtly with anger. “Nothin' hotter than a frustrated little twink, right?”

Roman visibly shifted in his seat, letting out a chuckled breath. “I may demand details after the fact, though. I ain't know him really well, but he _is_ pretty. I'd like to know how he reacts to Dean teachin' him what for.”

“He isn't going to go quietly, I know that much...” Seth brushed some errant locks away from his forehead. “I mean, I've been kind of a brat, but Jimmy? He's gonna give you some real trouble, Dean.”

Dean smirked. “Trouble? I like that sound of that.”

~

“His nipples are really sensitive,” Seth informed him.

“Hm?” Dean and Seth were walking through the lobby of the hotel when he dropped that little factoid. They'd received a text from Jimmy that he'd arrived at their location and was waiting to meet them near the front doors. Sure, it had been the subject of conversation at some point that day, when Seth had given Jimmy a call to see if he was up to what they'd planned, to discuss deal breakers and safeties. But it was sort of out of the blue by that time.

“Just saying.” Seth shrugged as if he'd told him it was cloudy outside. “You can use that against him.”

“Good to know you're loyal to your master, Seth.” He felt a malicious grin spread over his face as he gave Seth a covert scratch behind his ear. Dean noticed some goose prickles come up on Seth's arms after that, which only made him happier.

The moment didn't last long, as they spotted Jimmy just a second later, made up as usual with carefully smudged eyeliner and perfectly messy dark hair. That day he was dressed in a striped tank top and a pair of obscenely tight hot pink jeans. He really didn't have any shame at all, did he?

 _Gonna be hard to humiliate somebody like him_ , thought Dean as he and Seth approached. _Fuck, do I love a challenge._

Jimmy lit up when he noticed their presence, in the way that only he could. He dropped his magenta purse to the ground and ran over to jump into Seth's arms, who caught him with the ease of far too much practice with that sort of thing.

“Tylerrr!” he squealed, his face buried into Seth's neck. “I missed you, man, how've things been at the big time?”

“Never dull, I can tell ya that,” he laughed, setting Jimmy down on his feet. “'Specially not around this one.” Seth nodded towards Dean, who was currently itching to get his hands on one or both of them.

“Mox,” Jimmy snickered, rushing over to pull him into a one-armed hug. 

Dean couldn't help but smile back. It had been quite a while since they'd seen each other, and he was looking better than ever. Healthy and energetic and absolutely carefree. But...

“Ain't Mox anymore, Jim,” he pointed out while roughly mussing up his hair. They began to make their way to the elevator, but Jimmy was right in step with Dean.

“Oh sweetie, you're _always_ going to be Mox to me.” Jimmy reached up to stroke Dean's face with two fingers, gently, like he was comforting him.

Dean cocked an eyebrow down at him as they entered the elevator and the doors closed in front of them. “Be careful, yeah? Remember what you're in for tonight. I wouldn't make a habit of pissing me off. Just ask Seth.” His first sub blushed sheepishly at his mention.

“Oh of _course_ not, Mr. Moxley.” There was no hint of sincerity in any of that. It dripped of sarcasm as heavily as his eyes dripped with mascara. “I'd never! I only have the utmost respect for my most dominant and imposing Master.”

Dean glanced to his left side, into Seth's eyes. Seth had a resigned grin on his face, looking straight into the elevator doors. As hard as he tried to be innocuous and obedient, Jimmy was doing the opposite. And they both knew the consequences would be dire. Dean shrugged at Seth and turned his attention back to the smaller man to his right.

“Yeah, I hear ya.” Dean suddenly seized Jimmy by the back of the neck, firmly holding him in place. “Too bad I didn't believe a word of that.”

“Oooh.” Jimmy laughed, “I see your hackles, Mox. I'm terrified, truly.”

“You will be.”

The elevator doors opened on their floor, and Seth popped his head out to see if anyone was in the hallways. He nodded at Dean, indicating that the coast was clear. Dean, in response, grabbed Jimmy by the waist and hoisted him up on his shoulder, carrying him out of the elevator and down the hallway as Seth led the way to their room.

Seth was in the process of opening their door as Jimmy continued laughing at Dean's attempts. “Ooh, look how big and strong my Master is. How impressive—OW!” The slap to his soft rump came without notice, even though Dean thought he'd warned him quite effectively.

The door opened and Dean strode in, tossing Jimmy onto the bed as Seth closed and locked the room thoroughly. 

Jimmy giggled uncontrollably as he bounced against the mattress, turning over on his back and looking up with mock innocence at Dean. “Well? We're here. Now what? Gonna spank me 'till I'm sorry?”

“If you insist.” Dean snapped his fingers at Seth, who immediately stood at attention. “Seth, get his pants off, please.” 

“Oh, he gets a 'please'?” Jimmy smiled as Seth approached and reached for the fly of his jeans, not moving an inch to stop him. “What, Seth, you the good boy in this arrangement? Makes me the problem child, right? So what'd you have to do to keep Daddy happy, hmm?”

As Dean seethed in silence, Seth pulled Jimmy's pants to his ankles and removed his shoes, placing them side by side next to the bed. “Jimmy, you're only gonna make it worse on yourself.” With that advice, he pulled his pants off and began folding them as Dean approached.

In just seconds, Dean had Jimmy by the wrists and lying flat on his stomach, sitting on his thighs and keeping him stuck firmly where he lay. Without any further hesitation he laid his hand hard against Jimmy's ass again, drawing a surprised yelp from his lungs. But it was followed quickly by a chuckle.

“You think that’s all it’ll take? A little spanking? Really, Mox? Don’t you know me at all?” Jimmy was grinning. No, smirking! The nerve of that prettied-up little whore.

“Jimmy…” Seth sighed, in what he seemed to acknowledge as a hopeless warning. “Please don’t.”

It was in Dean’s nature to smirk back, but he couldn’t find it in himself at that moment. No, he glared down at his captive. His mouth tight, jaw clenched, fingers itching.

“You’re right.”

Seth whipped his head around to look at Dean, whose hands were unbuckling his belt. He wasn’t even the one being punished here and he seemed terrified. Not even Seth had felt the sting of his belt just yet. He hadn’t deserved it.

Dean unlooped his belt from his waist, folding it in half and snapping it against his already burning palm. “Jimmy…” 

Jimmy, in response, took his chin in his hands, turned his head back and batted his eyelashes up at Dean. “Yes? How can I help you, Master?” Nothing about that was sincere, not a single syllable.

“Since you can’t seem to wipe that smirk off your face yourself… I’m gonna have to do it for you. Seth.” He didn't even have to look to know that Seth was nodding and awaiting instruction. “You stay close to Jimmy, make sure you listen for when he's had enough. Okay?”

“Yeah, of course, Dean.” Seth knelt next to the bed. “You remember the safety, right, Jimmy?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jimmy rolled his eyes and gave Seth a quick poke on the nose. “Don't worry your pretty little head for me, Tyler.”

Well, as long as he was ready. Dean pulled Jimmy's briefs down, revealing a pair of soft cheeks slightly blotched with pink from the previous strikes. A tongue ran across his lips as he thought of how much more there was to do, how many more marks he was about to gain on his ass. He slid the belt across the palm of his hand, appreciating the smooth leather, the contrast to how it would feel to Jimmy.

No point in drawing it out any longer.

With a sharp noise and a shout in response, a thick pink line was strapped across both of Jimmy's cheeks. Dean immediately laid his hand on the mark, making a very interested noise as he felt the skin raising up and starting to burn hot. He expected it to be only the first of many, but it was beautiful as it stood stark against his light brown skin.

“Aaah, aaaha...” his captive moaned, grasping the pillow in front of him. “Ooh... that hurt. I'm kinda impressed.”

“Yeah? It's only gonna get worse.” He removed his hand from Jimmy's ass and replaced it with two more strikes with his belt. Jimmy's gasps sounded so desperate and pretty, just like the rest of him. And yet he still wasn't breaking.

“Yeah, that's the Mox I remember,” he snickered.

“Is it?” He spanked him with the belt again. “That's not my name, Jimmy. And this ain't gonna stop until you say it right.”

“Is that so... Mox?”

Dean drew his hand up and snapped it down, the belt slapping loud against Jimmy's ass. And then he did it again. And again. The smacks rang out and echoed against the walls, trumped in volume only by Jimmy's gasps and cries of pain as Dean began to lose count of them.

He finally let up and grabbed Jimmy's chin, turning it toward him so he could look at his face. Tears were flowing from his eyes and streaking eyeliner down his cheeks. A grimace of injury stained with tears and makeup. The man was panting heavily, stopping a moment to glare up at him, wordlessly defiant.

“Is pain not enough for you?” Dean asked, stroking Jimmy's cheek. “Hm. Maybe we won't get anywhere with this...” He tossed his belt to the floor and started undoing his own pants. “Seth?”

He didn't even have to provide context. Seth scrambled for his pockets and pulled out the condom and bottle of lube he had prepared and handed them to Dean. He then returned to the position he'd been ordered to take, studying Jimmy carefully.

Dean was already rock hard. Had been since the first strike of the belt. He rolled the condom onto his dick and liberally spread the lube over it. Smiling at the noise Jimmy made when his fingers slid into him, he made sure his asshole was at least somewhat stretched out for him. But it wouldn't be any fun without resistance, just like the rest of their little game.

Without removing his pointer finger, he lined up the head of his cock with Jimmy's hole and pushed in. The stretching from all sides made Jimmy gasp into the air and claw at the pillow, trying to tense up but unable to, as Dean kept him stretched open with his finger and cock working in tandem. 

“Fuck, FUCK, oh my god,” he panted, tears starting afresh in his eyes.

His reaction was only making him harder. Dean pushed in all the way to the base, finally taking his finger out and allowing Jimmy to squeeze around his cock. “God,” he grunted. “You're so fucking tight. I thought a little whore like you might be stretched out already, but... God damn. At least you have that going for ya.”

“C-Can't,” Jimmy whined. “Can't take it... Mox, please, I can't...”

He'd said it again. That certainly wasn't going to get him anywhere. In response, Dean simply reached forward and held Jimmy's cock in his hand, squeezing mercilessly as he started thrusting in and out from behind.

“Hnnngh!!” His moans now lacked any sort of coherence or control. Dean couldn't even begin to imagine the sort of pleasure he was suffering through as he worked on him from two sides, his own dick pulsing with heat at the thought. He didn't let up for even a moment. There wouldn't be any point in drawing it out. That wasn't what this was about.

He'd fuck him until he was sorry.

“Holy fuck,” Seth murmured from the side of the bed, his brow crinkled with both concern and arousal. “Jimmy, you all right? Still with us?”

“Hngh,” he groaned in response, saliva starting to drip from the corners of his mouth. “F-Fine, I-I can... d-don't stop... Mox... so good...” 

Dean was surprised he could still speak. He'd certainly have to put a stop to that. With his free hand, previously planted on his lower back for stability, snaked forth and under Jimmy's chest. It quickly found one of his nipples, as it was already hard and jutting out against he fabric of his shirt. He reached through the arm hole of the tank top and pinched his nipple, reveling in the desperate spasms that rocked through the whole of Jimmy's body in response.

“Mox, Mox, stop--” Jimmy gasped, the words coming out without any breath behind them. He squirmed under the overwhelming amount of feelings rushing through him, practically sobbing out every gulp of air. “I gotta--”

“I don't give a fuck what you have to do.” Dean wrenched his hold on his nipple even further, not having heard the safety. He shot a glance at Seth, who was tapping on Jimmy's shoulder with a concerned look on his face.

“Jimmy, you okay? You wanna stop?” he whispered.

“I-I don't--” Jimmy heaved a deep sigh as Dean momentarily let go of his chest so he could speak. “Hahhh,” he breathed as another streak of eyeliner came down his cheek with a tear, “I'm not... I'm not givin' up, I'm fine, I just... I dunno if... I can hold it.”

“Whatever 'it' is,” Dean snarled, “I don't care.” One hand went back to work on his nipple, the other pumping away at his cock, as he began thrusting into him with even more force. He could feel himself hitting his sweet spot, chuckling at the way it made Jimmy gasp and shake under him. His own peak was approaching quickly, so spurred by the way his sub was reacting.

Almost in response to this thought, he felt Jimmy's cock twitch against his palm. He was so close, he could tell by the way his breath stuttered in time with his body. He couldn't let up now. Quite the opposite. His efforts doubled, squeezing him underneath at two points and shoving his hips forward.

“How's that, huh? How's that? Feel good, Jimmy? So good you can't even fucking contain yourself?”

That was it. Jimmy cried out and buried his face in the pillow, his sobs muffled as his cock released several powerful shots of cum onto the bedsheets. Sticky with sweat all over his body, his face an absolute mess, Jimmy let out a sigh of relief, as if it was finally over.

“I ain't done yet,” Dean growled down at him, sensing his attempt to relax. He draped his body over Jimmy's back and started thrusting into him, both of his hands hard at work squeezing and stretching his nipples, the pressure behind his loins building at a fever pitch.

And it would come quicker than he thought.

“Aah, AAH, GOD,” Jimmy started panting again, convulsing at the overload of pleasure. His thighs were quivering, his asshole tightening even further around Dean's cock, and he was muttering something under his breath that Dean couldn't quite hear.

“What's that?” Dean panted, his head swimming. “Can't hear ya. You gotta speak up.”

“I gotta... I can't... ffffuck!”

With one last sob of defeat, Jimmy collapsed onto the pillow and hid his face in his hands. Suddenly, a new but familiar sound echoed against Dean's eardrums, the pitter-patter of liquid hitting a flat surface. Jimmy was relieving himself on the bed, his legs shaking as his urine streamed uncontrollably into the fabric.

“Oh, fuck,” he heard Seth mumble as he realized what was happening.

Christ. That was too much for him. Watching the puddle spread on the sheets between Jimmy's thighs sent a jolt through his body, and in just moments his cock was pulsing heavily with impending orgasm. He pulled out, rolling the condom off as quickly as he could, and set one slick hand to work on his twitching shaft. 

Jimmy was still going by the time Dean grunted loud with pleasure and loosed himself all over his back. The poor little bastard was still dribbling piss as Dean's cum splattered against his skin. And he still didn't move from where he was, breathing hard was all he could do at the moment. The stream flowed to a gradual stop as Dean let out a sigh of relief and pushed Jimmy down into his own mess.

Dean stood up from the bed to look at him, to take in the result of his efforts. He wanted to stamp this image into his memory. Jimmy rolled onto his side and held himself at the crotch, as if he could have stopped his humiliation retroactively. He was soiled from stomach to thigh in sweat and urine and semen, his ab muscles tight and shining with moisture. His face was entirely red, smudged with tears and makeup, drool shining on his chin and neck as he laid motionless but for the occasional quiet, broken cry of relief and shame. 

“Are you sorry?” Dean asked, putting his cock away and zipping his jeans up.

“Yes!” Jimmy gasped as his eyes snapped open to look up at Dean.

“Then say my name. And say it right.”

“D...D-Dean...”

Dean smacked him on the ass again, his fingers spread wide open.

“Not to you, Jimmy. Now... what's my name?”

He let out a sob, but no words. Smack.

“Say. My. Name.”

Jimmy panted hard for a few moments, swallowed, and then whimpered exactly what Dean wanted to hear.

“Sir.”

His heart swelled with pride. Dean patted Jimmy on the cheek. “Good... You know, maybe you're not just a hopeless, sloppy little whore. There's hope for you yet, Jimmy.” 

He glanced over at Seth, who was nursing what looked like the world's hardest erection and covering his mouth with both hands. His face was redder than he'd ever seen it, his eyes fogged over entirely.

“Seth.” Dean watched him jump with surprise and grinned at him, gesturing towards the bed. “Clean this up for me, okay?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Good boy. Scene.” 

With that, he immediately scooped Jimmy into his arms and held him close, not minding the wetness now transferring to his clothes. “Jesus, are you all right?” he asked, trying to sift through the tears and the smeared makeup to find Jimmy's true feelings on the matter. He brushed a wet shock of hair away from his forehead. As fun as that was, he had to make sure Jimmy knew he was going to be cared for.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” he laughed, sniffling a bit. He wrapped his arms around Dean's neck and nuzzled into his shirt. “Where the fuck did that come from? God. I haven't been fucked that good since Tyler and I got trashed in Peoria that one time...”

“Lots o' practice,” Dean chuckled in answer as he carried Jimmy into the bathroom. “Let's get you cleaned up, though, like, damn. Covered in all kinds o' fluids, holy fuck.”

“Y-Yeah,” Jimmy blushed a bit, of which Dean wasn't aware he was capable. “Sorry about that, do let me pitch in for the cleaning, it's probably going to be ridiculous.”

As he lowered Jimmy into the bathtub, Dean heard Seth approach the doorway. “Probably won't be as bad as you think,” he explained, dropping a large bundle of fabric onto the tile. “We thought something like this might happen, so we ordered some extra towels and stuffed 'em under the sheets. Which means it's a big tip and not an extra charge on the room.”

Jimmy let out another sigh of relief and stripped his shirt off, turning the faucet on. “That's good to hear. You both have way more experience with this shit than I thought.”

Dean shrugged, for once attempting to be modest. “It's a two-way street, man. Speaking of, I'd better go get Seth off before he fucking dies.”

Seth ran back into the room, muttering what sounded a lot like “Thank _god_.”


End file.
